Patron
by jaimi-or-jaemi
Summary: John is a recently returned vet trying to find a job and his friend has an idea. Mycroft has a case he has to deal with that requires him going undercover. Things do not go as planned
1. Chapter 1: The Idea

**TAGS/WARNINGS:** Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/John Watson, Bill Murray, Sherlock Holmes, Sugar Daddy, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fluff, Budding Love, Friendship, Long-Term Relationship(s), growing relationship

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations and Commissions

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

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John's POV  
It had been nearly six months since he finished his physio and was released from the hospital to live in a shitty little bedrest that took almost all his pension to afford. During that time, he has been searching for some sort of work, as a doctor or anything else he thinks he would be able to do. Unfortunately, no one has been willing to hire him thus far. Each and every job has turned him down for one reason or another, though he has a pretty good idea why.

It is getting to the point where it his PTSD isn't even his biggest issue. Instead it is the bone deep depression and feeling of hopelessness from not having a goal, purpose or sense of direction that is causing his hardest points. The councilor he sees is a waste of time, he has though that since the moment he meet her, though it is not something he is going to say aloud.

So when his old friend Bill Murry appears at his door and orders him to get dressed, he almost rushes to do so, despite the shock he is currently feeling.

Hopefully a night out with his friend will help him get some perspective, maybe even help break the shitty mood he has been in.

A little bit later they are sitting in a booth at a pub, snacking on fish and chips, downing whiskey like it is beer. For the last forty-five minutes Bill has been filling him in on the blokes from the unit, catching him up on how they are doing. It is rather bittersweet.

Finally his friend asks, "So why are you still in that shit hole? I expected you to have gotten a better place by now."

Sighing and shrugging, he answers, "No one wants to hire a vet with a limp, trembling dominate hand, and PTSD."

"That fuckin' sucks mate," his friend replies with a shake of his head.

Nodding in response, he doesn't say anything and they fall into silence for a little bit.

"I know you have a lot of different skills, and you always had a great rep as a lover, why not put those skills to use?" the soldier suggests suddenly.

"I'm not a prostitute," he snaps, not thinking about how that might sound until after he has said it.

Frowning he glowers for a moment. He has nothing against those who willingly work in the sex industry, even sees them as a useful part of society. He respects those who hold their head up proudly and enjoys doing their chosen filed. However for him it is not an option he wants to take, it is not something he could tolerate very well.

Shaking his head, Bill responds, "I didn't say become a prostitute, you could become a professional boyfriend or a sugar-boy." Pausing for a moment, the soldier asks, "You remember my younger brother Peyton?"

"Yeah," he responds with a nod, hard to forget at energetic rugrat.

"He's a sugar-boy, his sugar-daddy patron provides him with a nice flat, clothes, food, and an allowance, in exchange for being available one or two nights a week." Shaking his head again, Bill continues, "Apparently his patron is a married bisexual whose wife does not mind the fact he has a boy on the side as long as everything is kept under contract and is only one person. I don't ask, I don't want to know." Pausing to take another drink, his friend continues, "He spends his days in class, studying whatever catches his fancy, most his evenings are spent at home unless he has prior plans, either by himself or with his patron."

"How'd he get into that?" he queries after thinking about it for several minutes.

"One of his friends from uni is a sugar-boy as well, he belongs to a club that specializes in matching sugar daddies and sugar-boys. Supposedly they have a high success rate," there is another pause as his friend takes a drink, "Peyt was going through a rough patch but refused to ask me or our folks for help, he almost had to drop out of uni before his friend introduced him to the club manager. I think he had two or three interviews before finding one he liked."

Again there is quiet for a few minutes before he asks, "Does he like what he does?"

"Yeah," the soldier replies with a sharp nod, "He's friends with his sugar daddy and the wife, they keep it professional, and I think my brother appreciates the fact there is no emotional entanglement about the situation." Downing what's left of his drink, Bill inquires, "Would you like Peyt's number?"

Slowly he nods after mulling it over and fishing his phone out of his pocket, "Yeah, I can give him a call at a more reasonable hour then."

A smile tugs at his friends lips as they exchange all three numbers, theirs and Peyt's. They have one more round before heading in their own directions. He takes a cab back to the shit ball flat, and Bill takes a different cab back to the barracks with a promise to keep in touch.

While it is not really something he wants to do, it seems to edge a bit close to prostitution in his mind, he still knows it is something to consider. After all, it's not like he has a lot of choices. Besides, if he doesn't have a problem with a prostitute, why should he have a problem with being a professional boyfriend or a sugar-boy? At least it is an honest living, even if it really isn't what he was considering or even looking for.

That's it, he will have to call Peyt in the morning and see if they can have a bit of a chat about it.


	2. Chapter 2: The Case

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations and Commissions

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

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Mycroft's POV  
He pinches the bridge of his nose as he looks over the paperwork for a second time. Someone is hiring sugar-boys and using them to sell government secrets before killing them in brutal fashions. Normally he would send an agent to take care of this, but he is moderately sure that it is an agent doing this. Since it has only been gay sugar-boys being killed, it means he cannot send Ali to do it as a female, and Sherlock is too young to make it look like he is an older man looking for younger companion.

Fine, apparently this is going to be one he will take care of himself.

"Sir, I have all the paperwork completed except the preference chart and your signature." Ali states as she offers the paperwork to him, dark eyes gleaming in mirth, "I started to check the boxes I thought you might agree on, however, I only did so lightly so you can undo them if you'd like."

"Thank you Ali," he answers, accepting the packet and setting them down on the desk before him. "Do I have any other appointments for today?"

"No sir, the rest of your day is paperwork," she responds easily.

He nods, "Good, once I am done filling these out I will take them by the club."

"Very good sir, I will tell Frank to prepare the car," she comments with a nod before turning to leave.

His attention quickly turns to the papers before him eyes skimming over everything she has already filled out before going over the pages of questions. All of them are rating scales, numbered between one to five, with five being important and one being unimportant. There are a wide variety of categories and some of the questions include things like how import is appearance? Is there a preferred appearance or physical trait? Is loyalty important? Youth? Intelligence? Pay rates? Is what type of professional history they have important?

He keeps himself from grumbling as he goes through the papers and answers them mostly honestly if a bit vaguely for the few questions that requires physical choices. Once all the papers are filled out, he reads through them a second time, making sure that he has not missed anything and that they are filled out properly.

Standing, he quickly sends a message for the car to be brought to the front as he is pulling on his coat. It's a quick walk from his office to the curb. The ride to the club is silent as he considers this case and what agent it might be. At this point the only ones he can rule out are the females, the feminine females, not the ones who can hide themselves as a male or female or anything in between. He has a few suspects in his mind but they are all equally guilty.

"Await my return," he tells Frank as he gets out of the car.

"Yes sir," his driver replies with a nod, pulling off to the side of the parking where he will be able to see the door.

A tall man opens the door for him, bowing him through politely without saying a word. Inside, his eyes sweep the entryway. Noticing where each person, door, window, and furniture is at.

"May I assist you?" an attractive young woman with pale hair and polite eyes inquires.

"I have come to deliver this application," he replies, holding the file up.

Smiling, she nods, motioning to one of the doors, "Right this way sir, Ms. Williams will be with you shortly."

He follows her into the room, settling in one of the armchairs before the desk.

"Would you care for something to drink sir? How tea or coffee perhaps?" the woman asks graciously.

"No thank you," he responds equally politely.

"Very good, she will be right with you," the woman responds before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

Three minutes and eleven seconds later the door opens, revealing a distinguished woman with dark hair streaked with silver, surprisingly warm gray eyes, and light skin. Her clean cut business suit reveal very little about her, surprisingly enough.

"Good afternoon," she greets him, offering a hand as he stands, "I am Tessa Williams, welcome to my establishment, Mr. . . .?" her voice trails off, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

"Mycroft Holmes, Ms. Williams, one of my coworkers suggested your establishment," he responds, firmly accepting her hand before releasing it and waiting for her to move to her spot.

Both of them sit down in their respective chairs, he is mildly startled that she takes the seat beside rather than across from him before accepting the paperwork. Quietly and efficiently, she goes through it.

"Everything appears to be in order," she remarks, setting the papers aside, "We offer several different methods for patrons and companions to meet. The three primary methods are online profiles, two weekend meeting parties, and a matchmaker. Our matchmaker has a ninety-seven percent success rate when given honest information, higher than any other company in the country. "

He listens closely, considering the options and aware of the other options from their system.

"You are welcome to use any of them, either on their own or in some combination thereof. This Friday there is a dinner meet and greet, starting at five pm and going to midnight. It is a casual dress event. As a patron you may interview and speak with as many of the companions as you like, through the event, matches need to be reported so we may pause matching them and yourself." She tells him with smile.

"I shall attend this weekend," he answers, "Bill my account whatever expenses it incurs."

"Excellent!" she replies, "Do you have any questions for me?"

Giving a slight shake of his head, he answers, "I do not."

"Then I shall look forward to seeing you on Friday," she bid him, "Good day."

"Good day," he responds, standing and nodding. Without another word he leaves, using his phone to signal his driver that he is ready to go.

Hopefully he only has to attend one of these events. It is time that he could be using for other tasks. If this wasn't so important, he really would look into sending his brother instead of doing it himself. Too bad Sherlock isn't even twenty-three yet.


	3. Chapter 3: Friday at the Club (Mycroft)

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under DCC

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

Sorry this is late my lovely readers, I had one of those weekends where my focus was shot to smithereens, had a cold which made it worse, and when I felt better I had to do some work so I did not get this chapter done until Tuesday morning, however I have the next one ready so it will be posted on Monday like it is supposed to be.

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Mycroft's POV  
Just before the meeting event was about to begin, he changes from the bespoke suit into something a bit less formal. After all, fitting in is the point so he my catch his prey.

When he steps out of his private room, his assistant takes a look at him, chuckling and sighing, "Sir, it doesn't matter if you are in a bespoke suit or not, you still look extremely formal because of the way you carry yourself." She cocks her head to the side, eyeing him critically, "You need to relax your shoulders a bit more."

"Getting into character is not a problem Ali," he responds as he walks towards her and the door.

"Sir," is all his PA says in response, her one the disbelieving flat one she occasionally uses to make a point. As she opens the door to his office, she comments, "Your car is waiting sir."

He nods, continuing out the door and to the waiting vehicle with his assistant just a few steps behind, typing away on her phone.

Upon getting to the car, he asks Frank, his long time driver, "Do you think I am too formal for causal?"

He is curious to see what the older man will say.

Look at him for a moment, his driver studies him for a moment before answering quietly, "Well sir, I think you only relax by yourself and you are rarely by yourself to do so."

"Hmmmm," he hums in response.

Sliding into the car, the ride to the club is quiet, and he considers his assistance and drivers words. When they get to the club, his driver slides out of the vehicle in order to open his door for him and hold it while he gets out.

"I will be waiting over there for you to summon me, sir," the older man tells him, motioning to a parking space off to the side of the building.

"Fine," he replies with a nod before heading towards the building.

A slender but muscular door man opens the door for him, and the young woman from his previous visit greets him upon his entry to the foyer.

"Good evening sir, drinks are currently being served while the chef puts the finishing touches on dinner," she tells him, "Putnam will show you to the dining hall."

A dark-haired twink slips out of line up uniformly dressed young men with a warm smile, "This way."

Following the young man through the building, as they walk, the younger man points out where the restrooms, private sitting room, and solarium are at. Upon getting to the dining room, he comments, "Each table has four potential companions and spots for four patrons. If you find one you would like to speak with a bit more, there are private tables on the other side of the room. Through the far side door is a ballroom if you desire to dance, and you are welcome to take any of the companions to one of the private sitting rooms for conversation if you do not wish to have the conversation in the dining hall or ballroom. Have a pleasant evening sir."

He nods at the young man as he withdraws, leaving him at the door.

Glancing about, he does not spot any of the people he suspects, but the night is still young. He is ninety-three percent certain that the target will be here tonight and he can call a team in to take the traitor to lock up in order to be dealt with.

As he scans the room, he notices that most of the companions are young, late teens to mid twenties. Most are in uni, have just recently graduated from uni or are taking their advance classes in their chosen field. There seems to be an equal amount of males and females, though there is little in the way of mixing between the two except for a small group down the middle. He selects a table with four mostly quiet companions and a patron who is chatting up two of them equally. Both of the companions who are not being flirted with turn their attention to him. For a few minutes he plays the small talk game but finds both exceedingly dull.

His eyes are still sweeping the room when he spots a relatively short and compact man sitting at one of the private tables by himself. According to posture and hair cut he used to be military, the way his eyes focus in on people scanning them, he knows that the man was in some position of command and a used to be listened to. Of all the people here, he seems to be the one who desires to be here the least but is masking it whenever a prospective patron sits at the table with him.

"Can I get sir a drink?" a waitress in a flirty green dress inquires.

He names of a type of whiskey he favors, adding that he is moving tables and motioning to the one with the soldier.

"Of course sir," the waitress responds with a smile.

Politely bidding the two companions at the table good evening, he heads over to the soldier.

"Mind if I join you?" he asks the younger man.

Studying him for a moment and smiling up at him, the soldier motions to the other seat as he answers, "You're welcome to."

He settles into the chair, glancing over the soldier and realizing he is also a doctor. Now that is interesting.

"May I ask how long you have been a companion?" he inquires after a few minutes of easy quiet companionship and the waitress has brought him his drink.

Slate blue eyes flicker over him for a moment before the soldier answers, "This is my first event."

"Interesting, it is mine as well," he comments before offering a hand, "Mycroft Holmes."

A small smile twitches on the soldier's lips as he accepts his hand, the younger man replies, "John Watson."

"May I inquire why a person with your skill set would be here?" he asks queries before his eyes search the room again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees John flinch and tense up for a moment before he answers quietly, "I have PTSD."

He nods, glancing over the soldier and quickly deciding that it is not so much that he has PTSD that is the problem but that he needs the adrenaline rush danger gives him.

"Would you care to have lunch next week to discuss a prospective job offer?" he inquires suddenly, surprising himself. He had not planned on actually hire one of the companions that the club offers, but this young man appeals to him. He is physically pleasing with his sandy, short cropped blonde hair, intelligent slate blue eyes, and solid build. The fact he is both a doctor and a soldier is a very interesting. He is very curious what drove the younger man to this sort of job idea.

This seems to startle the soldier who gives him a curious look before nodding once, "That would be acceptable."

Just as he is about to list several options for John to choose from, he spots his target and his attention quickly shifts focus. The soldier seems to notice this change in focus and follows his eyes.

Of all the people he had suspected that particular agent was towards the bottom of the list.

Slipping his phone from his pocket, he sends a quick message to the team to capture him.

"You know him, and not in a good way," the soldier remarks quietly, "Your eyes got rather cold. I would guess that he's the reason you're here, not looking for a companion, so why did you offer?"

"You're interesting, and my PA tells me I need to socialize more often." He answers absently as he continues to watch the target, not responding to any other part of the statement.

"Alright," John replies after several moments considering that then asks, "Do you have a particular place in mind you would like to meet at?"

Still focused elsewhere, he replies with the names of several different cafés, all of them not as pricy as he normally goes. When he sees John flinch, it takes only a moment for him to realize the reason is it will e difficult for the doctor to reach many of those place by tub and cab could be costly. He appears to be on a very limited budget so that could be an issue.

"I can send a car for you," he offers, shifting most of his focus to the soldier.

Tightly, John nods and pulls out a card with his address on it. It is one of the plain cards that the club provides for just this reason. He knows he could also request the details of John's desired contract, but will just have his PA gather information for him instead.

"Excellent, Tuesday at one pm?" he asks.

"That sounds good," John answers with a nod.

"Perfect, if you will excuse me, I will look forward to our lunch on Tuesday." He tells the soldier before standing and heading towards the door.

"Is everything alright sir?" the hostess who had greeted him inquires as she sees him collecting his things.

"Yes, it was excellent actually, I was just called back to work unfortunately," he replies with a politician's smile.

"Ah," she answers with a small nod, "A common problem among our patrons, I hope things turn out well." With that her attention turns back to greet and speaking with people.

He didn't even make it to the dinner portion of the night. Though the whiskey was good.

Just as he is getting out the door, he sees something swinging at his head from the corner of his eye.


	4. Chapter 4: Friday at the Club (John)

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under DCC

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

Hello all, sorry this is a few hours late, I love my cats but they sometimes cause mischief like deleting sections of the story when I am not looking so I have to retype it even though I originally had it ready to go. That's what I get for not setting up the chapter on here as soon as it was done!

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John's POV  
He is surprised when the attractive auburn haired man who moves with an air of power stops near his table, asking if he can join him. He is even more surprised when his unexpected companion asks him to lunch after asking why someone with his skill set would be here. Since he filled out the profile paperwork, he assumes that is the skill set he is referring to. So he agrees and notices that when his potential patron goes to give a time and place his attention is drawn away, to a vibrant blonde on the other side of the room. They had spoken for just a few more minutes before Mycroft had left after checking something on his phone.

After Mycroft left, he notices that the blonde's eyes follow him out the door and he quickly leaves the sugar-boy he is speaking with to follow.

His instincts say it is not a good thing that the blonde is following Mycroft.

Standing, he quickly follows, limping along with his cane in a rather frustrated fashion and pushing himself a bit harder than he had in a while. Just as he gets past the front doors, he sees the blonde lifting a bar to strike his potential patron in the back of the head.

Not happening, he thinks as he darts forward, ignoring the sharp pain in his leg from the sudden twisting motion as his cane comes up, blocking the bar before he slams his other fist into the blonde's jaw.

Grunting, the blonde staggers backwards before turning his attention to swing at him.

This time it is Mycroft who stops it, his umbrella slamming into the blonde's stomach, making him fold over before it comes down on the back of his head, knocking the blonde out with a crunching noise.

"I must thank you for your timely assistance," Mycroft comments as he glances down at the blonde man.

Before he has a chance to answer, three men carrying guns appear, two aimed at him, one aimed at the man on the ground.

"Arrest Nathan," Mycroft orders the three men, "take him back to headquarters and await further orders."

The two aiming at him tuck their weapons away, before nodding and dragging the blonde off.

"Would you care for dinner tonight?" the auburn-haired man asks once the three are gone with their burden and a black car has pulled up beside them.

He studies Mycroft for a moment before nodding once, "Sure."

As they slide into the waiting car, his potential patron comments, "I do not believe you need that cane. You did an excellent job darting and attacking without any problems I could see."

Flushing, he looks down at his leg, noticing that the sharp pain seems to have faded, and there are only twinges from where he twisted around without properly pivoting. Actually, he had moved without problems once he had zoned in on a target.

"Would you like to discuss a contract tonight or just have a dinner?" Mycroft inquires, studying him closely with his sharp eyes.

He should probably discuss a contract, the bedrest he is in is driving him insane, there have been too many mornings where he has considered just grabbing his gun and dealing with himself. It is not like he would be missed, his parents are dead, his sister is a drunk who resents the fact he was able to better himself, and he had no close friends since the ones he had died in the war. At the same time, he would like just one night to act like they are not employee and employer. Not that they are that yet.

"Dinner tonight, then our arranged lunch," the auburn-haired man declares before tapping lightly on the closed diving glass between front and bottom, bringing his attention to the fact that it is closed. He doesn't hear what Mycroft tells his driver before they are off.

"Okay," he comments with a crooked smile, "Sounds good."

The ride there is quiet, though there are several different occasions that he can feel the older man's eyes on him. When the car pulls to a stop, the driver opens the door, holding it while they slip out. Glancing about tells him they are somewhere that is probably better than he could afford but not so much that he would feel completely out of place.

Smiling slightly, he gives a small shake of his head, before following the taller man into the building.

The host immediately greets them, "Good evening Mr. Holmes, your usual table is ready if you would like to follow me?"

His potential patron nods, motioning for the host to lead and they quietly make their way through the restaurant. The table they are shown to is towards the back, near enough a window it can be glanced out but positioned so it would take a high powered gun to shoot through it. It has line of sight to all of the entrances, kitchen, and the bathrooms. The chairs are very comfortable as they slip into them, surprisingly so compared to most the places he is used to.

"Thank you for agreeing to dinner and the assistance. Both are appreciated," Mycroft states as a menu is set before him and the host withdraws. "They have excellent food here, I would suggest the Three-Cheese Chicken Penne Florentine."

Chuckling softly, he nods and replies, "I'll do that, chicken is one of my favorite."

"Is there something you would like to discuss?" Mycroft inquires with a tilt of his head, a stray auburn curl escaping the orderliness of the rest of his hair and just barely skimming his forehead.

Thinking about it he ends up sighing as he answers, "Honestly, I am curious what made you think I was interesting when there were some many better looking and in better shape blokes to choose from."

A small smile plays at the older man's lips, "I will answer after we order since Vanessa will be here in less than a minute to take our selection."

He nods just as a plump woman with merry eyes and a cheerful nature stops beside them. "Mr. Holmes, it's good to see you again," she greets his potential patron before turning to him, "Hello, I am Vanessa, I will be the one taking care of you for the evening. Can I start you off with drinks or do you know what you want already?"

Her eyes glance between them as she waits for an answer.

Mycroft nods to him to go first, so he puts in his order but is not sure what to get to drink with that. Is it something to get with tea? As soon as he is done saying his main course, his possible patron cuts in, naming off some sort of wine for both of them before ordering his dinner. The waitress writes it all down quickly before promising to be right back.

"I hope you do not mind me ordering wine for you?" the auburn-haired man asks with a tilt of his head.

"Nah, I was trying to decide what to order anyways, makes it easier," he replies with a warm smile.

"Good. Now then, I am going to answer more like my brother, I prefer to keep my observations to myself, rather than stating them aloud, but you asked so I will answer." Mycroft states, taking a breath and continuing, "When I first spotted you, I could read your military service in your posture, tan, and hair style. I could read the fact you had some form of command and are used to being listened to in the way you scanned the room and the tight expression in your eyes. Your hands when I was close enough to see them told me that you had been recently injured and that you were a doctor. A doctor and soldier who is recently injured must be a warzone, Afghanistan is more active, so you must have held a position there where you were a doctor with a staff that listened to you. This was not your first choice when you were released back into civilian life, but was a suggestion from someone you are on good terms with, even if you do not think of them as a good friend."

"Amazing," he breathes, staring at the attractive man. "Simply amazing."

A smile twitches at the corner of the genius' lips, and he must be a genius considering how much he saw without ever seeing his profile.

How could he ever hope to be of use or an adequate companion to someone so intelligent? He must only want him for sex. He could do that, though it still makes him feel a bit awkward. Or it is pity. No, that doesn't seem right, pity does not seem like the thing this genius would do.

"Pity is not something I feel," Mycroft announces suddenly, smiling at him. "You are an intelligent man in your own right, you have to be in order to be doctor and lead soldiers in a war zone. I am certain that you do not mind quiet time, just as much as you love moments filled with adrenaline just as much."

He flush, looking down and doubting that, sure he was smart enough, but not nearly smart enough it seems like sometimes considering his financial situation. Of course he wouldn't be in that situation if he hadn't tried helping his sister out.

Flashing a quick smile, he decides he is not going to do the pity party, instead he will ask about random things, get to know him. He is already quite certain he is going to accept whatever offer he is given, so he might as well enjoy this point.

Once he relaxes and switches to what his squad used to call 'Three Continents Watsons' mentality, things get a lot easier between them. The conversation flows smoothly, though most of if it is worthless small chat. It still gives him a chance to get a feel for how his potential patron acts, and he finds himself liking what he is discovering. He doesn't like the idea of being a kept man or a sugar boy, but he has a feeling that things will work out, he just has to remember to keep his temper.

At the end of the night, Mycroft offers to either take him home or summon a car for him, much to his shock. He accepts the ride, which is done in quiet. Noticing the expression on both driver and possible patron's face when he says where he is going gives him even more reason to stay quiet. After all, this is part of what he is hoping to escape with his contract.

When the car pulls to a stop, Mycroft glances at him with a warm smile, at least he is sure it is warm for the older man since he had seen some of his other smiles that were more businesslike. "I will have a car sent for you on Tuesday at twelve thirty if that is acceptable?"

He nods, agreeing with a smile of his own. "That is, thanks."

"Until Tuesday," Mycroft bids him with a nod just as the door opens.

"Until Tuesday," he echoes back before sliding out of the vehicle and heading towards his crappy flat.

There is a lot to think about between today and then.


	5. Chapter 5: Aftermath

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

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Mycroft's POV

After the doctor and sugar boy, and that's quite a combination to consider, gets out of the car, he directs Frank to take him to the office. He will deal with Nathan and have Ali gather all the information available on Doctor Watson. What else? Oh yes, get a contract written up, he has a feeling that it will be needed because the soldier would never just accept an oral contract, not when he doesn't actually want to be a sugar boy. Maybe he should see about hiring him for something else? Of course he had found the way the smaller man had moved in to deal with Nathan rather appealing, knowing intellectually and seeing physically the fact he can fight are two very different things.

When the car pulls to a stop, he waits patiently for his driver to open the door before sliding out and smoothly heading towards the private offices within the MI building. Tonight he is not heading towards his office, instead he is heading towards the bowels of the building, to where the containment cells are. He needs to decide what to do with Nathan, but first he has to discover exactly what information the traitor has sold out.

As he makes his way through the building, his PA appears at his side, her phone in her hand as she passes a file. One he notes is on Nathan and what his recent work has been. His eyes skim the information, reading faster than any of his subordinates as he heads to the room Nathan is currently in. As he strides through the door, passing the file back, his eyes do a quick sweep, noticing everyone within the room and chuckling over the fact the only two women in the room are his PA Ali and MI6's M.

"Nathan Briggs, Agent 0019, modestly intelligent, excels at honeypot missions and turning informants, thirty-nine years old, assigned male at birth, requested to be listed as gender fluid, can easily play both male and female roles with ease." Ali lists off, as she watches the disgraced agent, not looking at anyone else, head high and back straight. She's pissed because he was one of her training instructors and he is aware that she dislikes traitors.

"You can't prove anything!" the caged agent snarls in response, glaring at Ali.

Interesting, the relationship had gone past just the teacher-trainee dynamic. The way her eyes flash tell him exactly how much since he is aware she belongs o a few discrete clubs where she can play whatever roll she wants as her mood strikes. Of course, each one is under a different persona but that is not the point.

"What shall we do with him?" the director of MI5 questions.

"We need to know how much he has sold," M replies, voice firm and calm despite the anger in her eyes.

All three of them study the ex-agent for a few minutes.

"Are you compromised?" M inquires with a glance at his PA.

"No," she replies with her normal bored tone, "Play with him?" she queries with a tilt of her head, eyes sweeping in the least friendly manner possible.

"Yes, and dispose of the leftovers." M just about orders before seeming to remember Ali is his to order about, "Mycroft?"

"Acceptable, when you are done, there are a few things I need." He answers with a nod.

"I can multitask," his PA comments, "I'll get to it once he is moved."

He nods, considering the matter concluded and turning on the balls of his feet to head to his office. She will send him a report when done, or call him back if he is needed for something. Until then, he has paperwork to do, and he can send her the list of information he needs once he is at his desk.

Once at his desk, he sends his PA a quick email about the information he wants gathered on John before turning his attention back to his normal work. Just over an hour passes like that as he makes all the reports necessary for the removal of an agent.

He is surprised by the visit from M, who merely arches a silver brow at him. In response he merely lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. That's the end of that conversation as she nods and leaves.

He has just finished up the papers when his computer chimes that he has a message. Opening it, he discovers all of the information from his PA on one John Watson, divided into two parts, a complete and thorough set of files for the first, and a summary for the second. He will read the completed file at home, but for now the summary. It only takes him a few minutes to work his way through it, including a copy of what he is looking for in a patron or sugar daddy. Actually his request list is relatively simple, and not all that expensive, he could easily support four or five people with the same request list without hardly touching his account. It is a lot cheaper than his brother's monthly spending that is for sure.

Well then, best draw up a contract and arrangement deal using this as a base. Shouldn't be too difficult, he does complicated negotiations on a daily bases.

Besides, the sooner he has it drawn up, the sooner he can have it delivered for review, the higher his chances are on their lunch meeting leaving with a sugar-boy.

Now that's something Sherlock would laugh about, the fact he has to pay for sex, but that's alright. He would rather hire John then allow some lack-witted idiot who would not recognize his value do it. If they eventually end up in bed together, that is just a bonus. He can clearly recall how fluid the younger man had moved when he had went after Nathan, the way his clothes had accented his best traits and showed off the fact he was still in good shape. Oh yes, he definitely wouldn't mind ending up in bed with him.

Starting at the top: flat or small house with at least one bedroom, bathroom, living room, and full kitchen? Easy, he can use his smaller house, the one he bought when he was first hired. It actually has three bedrooms, one full bath and one half-bath, and separate dining, kitchen, living rooms. Next item: small allowance to return to school or take classes. Again, so simple, and relatively cheap considering the schools he has listed as possible places to attend. Third item: small allowance for one new outfit every six months. Every six months? He is moderately sure his tailor makes him a new suit every month, all of them to be used for different purposes and functions. Of course some of his suits get destroyed when he has to deal with his brother's antics, so he never really has too many suits, but he still has new clothes regularly. Last point, at least an one-hour warning before any anal sex for cleaning and medical preparation purposes. He blinks, trying not to laugh because seriously, someone looking to be hired as a sugar boy and that is there request list of things for the contract? It is simple!

Smirking, he writes up the entire contract, including housing, twice weekly housekeeping services, school allowance for better schools than the ones listed, clothing allowance for a better wardrobe than requested, agrees to sex requests, adds in a stipend for medical supplies, and offer for a job related to his medical career for assisting with his younger brother and occasionally himself, also an offer for occasional guard and protection jobs. Might as well hire him as a doctor and guard since he is skilled in both areas.

Once the contract is done, he reads it a second time before summoning one of the lower level agents to deliver to the good doctor at his bedshare along with a note and sealed in an envelope.

Now that that is out of the way, is there anything else for him to do before he heads home for the night? Nothing that cannot wait until morning. Officially he has the weekend off, but he often works from his home office, and he is sure this weekend will be no different. With a sigh, he stands, stretching and heading towards the door, using his phone to summon his driver. Tomorrow he will look over the more detailed John Watson files, seeing all the details that make a person interesting and boring, seeing how he became the way he is with more clarity than just a glance can give him, but that is tomorrow, not tonight.

Tonight will be a hot shower, check in on his brother, and go to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6: Recieving the Contract

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

* * *

John's POV  
He wakes up to the sound of light knocking on the door to his bedrest. Startled, he glances at the clock, noting that it is just after six am, and rolls out of bed. Limping over to the door, the room is small enough not to use his cane, he opens it to discover a man in a dark suit standing there with an envelope in his hands.

"Doctor Watson?" the man inquires.

"Can I help you?" he asks with a curious look, why is there a serious man in a suit standing at his door?

Lifting his phone, his thumb quickly flicking across the screen, probably pulling something up, the man's eyes flicker glance between the phone and him before offering the envelope. "Delivery for you."

He accepts it, a bit shocked because who would be sending him papers this early in the morning? Of course, that was just the man in the suit being far too efficient at his job. After all, if he is a night owl or an early riser, he could have decided to start doing the deliveries soon after getting up in the morning. Before he has a chance to say anything in response, the suit leaves. Striding off as if he has other more important things to do. Actually, he probably does, he is aware of the fact he's not an important person.

Closing the door, he limps over to the small desk he keeps his gun and lap top in. Settling in the chair, he breaks the seal on the envelope, shocked to see that it is a set of contracts from Mycroft.

He takes his time as he goes over them. Checking all of the information filled in carefully and mildly amazed at the terms within it. All three are far better than he was expecting or is even sure he deserves. The first he had sort of expected, it is the sugar-boy, or 'companion' as the papers. The other two are unexpected, one for a position as a private doctor, the other as an occasional bodyguard. Each of the contracts comes with its own details and offer. At the very back of the collection he discovers a small note in tidy and clean handwriting.

- _John,_

 _I look forward to our lunch to discuss business on Tuesday. In the meanwhile, I thought you deserved to have knowledge ahead of time as to what I plan to offer. There are three contracts within this envelope. You are welcome to accept all of them or none of them at your discretion. They are not reliant upon each other. If you accept all three and choose to end one of them at a later date, it does not affect your position with the other two._

 _MH_ -

Blinking, he grabs a pad of paper and takes his time going over each of the contracts for a second time. He wants to know exactly how much overlap there is between them. It ends up being a surprisingly small amount. So he has a contract for being a sugar-boy, though it appears companionship is the goal with that one more than sex. The private physician offer has better pay than he made in a year in the military. Plus all supplies provided and an offer to pay for all licensing fees. It is for Mycroft and his younger brother Sherlock, all records to be provided as needed. The private bodyguard is for tasks when taking a government provided bodyguard might not be the best idea from what he can tell. More of a social functions sort of guard than anything else.

All three job offers come with generous terms to them, excellent, better than expected pay, and better than state medical for those times where hospital visits are required, and a retirement package. There is also information on several schools that he might be interested in. All ones he had considered but ultimately taken off the table because he didn't think a patron would want to send him to a school of that caliber at his age. He may never work as a surgeon again, but that does not mean he could not learn a different specialization. Maybe take a few classes from several different fields and see if any other field catches his attention the same way being a field doctor and surgeon had.

All of it was possible now because of one man.

Well, best if he doesn't get his hopes up yet, there is always a chance he may change his mind before Tuesday and decide that he offered too much. While it would be disappointing, he'd understand. Particularly since he knows that he was a spur of the moment choice and not something Mycroft had thought out.

Still, a little voice in the back of his mind whispers to him, it would be a good idea to see what all those schools offered, maybe even consider some of his options, and see if any call to him. He always wanted to try his hand at psychology. Another thing he could look into was writing classes, he enjoys writing, though he doesn't share a lot of it. Probably because most the things he has written up were all missions from when he was in the war zone. Not something he really wants to share, but they are nice for himself. Maybe he will get them self published just so he can have a physical copy.

Biting his lip, he glances around the room, excitement beginning to hope that he is almost done staying in this hellhole.

If this works out he will have to call and thank Bill and Peyton, maybe even send them both their favorite bottle of something.


	7. Chapter 7: First Lunch

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

Sorry this is a few hours late, today was not the easiest of days on me.

Also, if anyone finds my stories anywhere than here or AO3 under jaimistoryteller please report them to whatever company they are with as not authorized to be there. A lot of writers are having their works stolen and used by unauthorized people to make illegal money.

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John's POV  
Half hour before the car was supposed to show up he is up and ready to go. He has spent the last few days considering the contracts. He doesn't quite understand why Mycroft had offered him three different jobs, nor why the older man had offered the pay that he has. On just the private doctor contract he could easily get out of this hellhole. If he was to accept the sugar boy and private doctor contracts he could have somewhere to live for free while he saves up money to actually buy his own place, maybe even purchase his own practice so he could stop with the sugar boy work and just have a respectable nine to five life. Then there is the private body guard, while he is not sure how affect he would be in that position, it is another great paying one. Between the private doctor and body guard offers he could easily get out of this place and still save a little money.

Still, he hasn't quite decided which one he is going to accept. Every time he thinks he has settled on an answer, his mind starts presenting him with all the different reasons he should pick a different one. He has not been this indecisive since he was a teenager trying to decide what to specialize in. Lifting the contracts, he glances at them for a long minute before shaking his head and setting them back down.

He knows part of his problem is he is nervous about the idea of becoming a sugar boy. Yes it is a relatively common occurrence. Yes it is a rather cool way to approach a physical relationship. Yes it uses a skill set that he has gotten praised for in the past by most of his partners. Still, it is not something he had ever imaged doing.

He ends up setting the papers down so he can use the bathroom and wash his hands before returning to his pacing around the flat.

With five minutes left before the car is supposed to be there, he grabs his coat, picks up the papers and leaves the flat. Just before he walks out of the door he glances at the cane that has been sitting there for the last few days unused. Of course he hasn't left the bedrest during those days, and moving around this tiny place is rarely a problem. What he has noticed though is his leg has not been as sore and he has been able to get better rotation out of it than he has since getting shot. He'll try without the cane, worse case he falls on his face, it's not like he hasn't done that plenty of other times.

Downstairs, he waits just inside the lobby door for the sleek car to pull up before he steps outside and walks over to it. The driver is out and waiting for him by the door, opening it politely for him with a nod before closing it behind him and sliding back behind the wheel.

The ride to the café is quiet and he wonders if he should try talking or if the driver is too much of a professional to be bothered with communicating when he doesn't have to.

When they get there, the driver is out and holding the door before he is hardly aware of the car stopping.

Climbing out, he makes sure to keep the papers in his hands and nods politely at the driver before heading towards the door.

He stops just inside the café eye, eyes adjusting to the differences between the lights outside and the lights within as he looks for Mycroft. When he spots the older man near one of the back booth tables, he quickly makes his way there. Stride steadier than it has been in months, something he is trying not to think about.

"Good afternoon Mycroft," he greets the taller man as he stops just before him.

Smiling warmly, at least what he is pretty sure is warmly for him, the older man replies, "Good afternoon John." Motioning to the booths, the genius inquires, "Would you like to take a seat?"

Nodding, he slips into the empty side, and sets the papers off to the side as Mycroft settles back into his spot.

"How are you today?" the auburn-haired man inquires.

Bobbing his head a bit, he answers, "Good, I'm good. You?"

That smile gets just a little bit warmer as Mycroft answers, "I am acceptable. I must admit to being unusually pleased about this lunch."

He chuckles softly.

"I see you received the contracts, have you decided which one or ones you would like to accept?" the genius inquires.

He wait for the waitress that he can see approaching before answering, might as well get the ordering done first.

After they have put in their orders, he answers the question put before him, "Honestly, I keep thinking about them but hadn't quiet decided by the time I got in the car. I have not been this indecisive since I was a teenager."

Mycroft merely nods in acceptance rather than saying something.

Several minutes are spent with them sitting there in silence, sipping at their individual drinks. He even murmurs thanks over the fact it was ordered for him before he arrived and is perfectly warm.

Once the meals are served, and he eyes Mycroft's plate doing the mental calculations for what someone of his size should be eating, he has a hard time stopping himself from scowling. This is the second meal he has eaten with the older man and in both cases he has eaten smaller than average meals. Perhaps there is some underlying medical condition but it is still worrisome.

"I do not get a lot of exercise, so I make up for it with lighter meals," the genius tells him, answering his unspoken question.

"Umhmm," he hums, deciding that he will take the private doctors position if nothing else. Though Mycroft is a rather good looking man, so the concept of being a paid companion is not the worse one possible, even if it is something his pride rankles at. At least he is going into it with clear expectations and no misunderstandings as to what he is doing. "I believe I will accept all three slots, though how much good I will be as a body guard I do not know."

Mycroft nods once, head slowly nodding once in a nod of acceptance, the warmest smile he has seen yet curves the older man's lips.

"Excellent, the house is ready for moving into, and I will introduce you to my brother when you are settled in. my hours are often varying and random, so I cannot promise any particular times I will visit. I do not feel that will be an issue since you are correct I am after companionship rather than sex." The most endearing flush colors Mycroft's light skin making his freckles stand out vibrantly, "Not that I am against sex."

His lips curve in a smirk that any of his soldiers would have called the Three Continents Watson smirk.

Mycroft's eyes widen slightly as he swallows and reaches for his drink, eyes widening in shock. Apparently that was not the reaction the genius was expecting.

Wait, if he was not expecting that, he probably won't be expecting any of the things he knows about teasing and pleasuring another person. Just because most his partners in the past were women doesn't mean he did not share time with some men too. Maybe he does bring something to the table here. Well that's at least reassuring.

The rest of lunch goes smoothly, he occasionally flirts, though keeps it to small things like their hands brushing when Mycroft passes him a new copy of the contracts to sign, ones that the older man has already signed and dated after inquiring if there were any changed he wanted to make. Considering how good the original offers are, he is definitely not planning on changing anything about them. He even gets them signed and passed back to Mycroft.

When they are getting ready to leave, the genius promises, "I will have these finalized and a copy ready for you by tomorrow. As soon as the finalized copy is in your hands you are welcome to move into the house. My PA can assist in any details you may need dealt with."

He grins, answering, "I have a duffle bag and a computer bag, moving is not that hard."

Blinking, the older man stares at him in shock, his expression almost disbelieving.

"I'm good at packing things," he comments with a shrug, "Too much time in the military probably."

"Well then, you are welcome to move tomorrow afternoon." Mycroft answers smoothly.

He smiles and nods, "That would be nice."

"Perfect," the older man murmurs with a slight smile before glancing at his watch, "I need to be going. Until later John."

He nods, shaking the taller man's hand and replying, "Have a good day Mycroft."

Well that went better than he expected, he thinks as a pair of matched cars pull up. Best get his duffle bag packed tonight and give his notice in the morning. Thankfully, it is not a place he is on contract for, so he can leave and there will not be a problem. He loses two weeks worth of rent, but considering the fact he will have a probably far better place to live and a definitely better income, he's not worried about it.


	8. Chapter 8: Settling In

Sorry this is late by a few hours, I did not have the best of weekends, so my writing sort of fell behind, any hows, I hope you all enjoy the chapter

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John's POV  
Moving is rather quick. After all he doesn't have a lot of stuff. Settling in the new house is harder. It's bigger than any place he has lived before, including his house growing up with his parents and sister. He gets the feeling that this place has not been a home in years from the lack of a lived in feeling. Still, he is quite comfortable in it.

The first time the maid shows up, he is shocked, because even though he remembered that there is a house keeping service, the contract had not said what days they came through.

"Hullo," he greets the woman, blinking at her in shock as she steps through the door to the living room.

She apparently didn't know he was there, cause she nearly jumps through her skin, tripping and falling on her arse.

"You alright?" he queries, getting up from where he was sitting to check on her.

"Oh, yes sir, I didn't realize anyone was here," she answers, ducking her head and blushing a bit.

He smiles at her reassuringly, trying to put her at ease, "I only moved in yesterday."

Frowning slightly, she inquires, "Is Mr. Holmes planning on ending our services here? No one has told me that someone was moving in, or that I need to end them."

"Would you like some tea?" he inquires, "I just made a pot a little bit ago, it's still nice and warm. Mr. Holmes and I have come to an agreement. He felt that this house would be the best place for me for that agreement. Once I manage to get re-enrolled in school I will not be here to bother you while you work."

For a moment she blinks at him before slowly nodding once, "Tea would be nice."

He nods back and fetches an extra cup while she gets up, when he gets back to the living room she is perched on the edge of the sofa, waiting nervously. Quietly, he pours the tea, adds a bit of sugar and milk, and offers it to her. Sure enough, she relaxes after taking the first sip. For some reason he has always been good at knowing what sort of tea a person will like best during any given situation. They visit for a few minutes while she drinks her tea, and he asks after her schedule to make sure he is going to be out of the way.

While she gets to work cleaning, he continues to go through the information on the schools that he found sitting on the coffee table. There are several stacks worth of notes, syllabuses, classes, and options for him to consider all of it.

When she says goodbye a few hours later, he responds a bit distractedly, before continuing with his work. He doesn't actually stop until he hears the front door open and glances up in confusion. He hasn't gotten any texts or phone calls regarding sex, he is pretty sure that Mycroft was not planning on bring his brother by the day after he moved in.

"Hello?" he calls out as he stands up, wondering for a moment if he should keep his gun with himself rather than in his bedroom.

"Good evening John," Mycroft remarks as he enters the living room.

"Hi," he replies a bit warmer, "I wasn't expecting you or I would have figured out something to make for dinner."

The older man gives a slight shake of his head, commenting, "I will not be here that long. Actually," he clears his throat, "I wished to see if you are pleased with the accommodations."

Glancing around for a moment, he nods, "Yeah, this place is nice, a bit bigger than I was expecting but nice."

"Good. Well I need to be on my way. I have some business to attend outside of the country." His patron announces before asking, "I will be back in eight days. Would you care for dinner the next night?"

"Sure," he answers with a smile and a nod, "Take care of yourself."

A surprised smile curves the older man's lips for a moment before he replies, "Yourself as well."

As quick as he arrived, Mycroft left, leaving him standing there staring at the empty space wondering why he didn't just call.

Giving a small shake of his head, he heads to the kitchen to see what is in it. Not a lot actually, just the very most basic of supplies, which is fine for just him, but maybe he should get some real food for when Mycroft comes over in the future. He is definitely going to need food for that, healthy but good food, because his patron really needs to eat more.

Tomorrow he will go shopping and maybe go poke around a few of those schools he is reading about, see if any of them catches his attention. Not tonight, tonight he is going to finish going through the information on those schools and eat some dinner.

* * *

*waves at reader* hi folks, I hope you all enjoy another update, any reviews, comments, questions or other forms of communication are welcome.

My tumblr about stories, writing, and art JaimiStoryTeller

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos


	9. Chapter 9: Meeting Sherlock

So this week has been one of those weeks where things cannot seem to go right, sorry I did not get this posted Monday, hope you all enjoy.

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John's POV

In the time between Mycroft's visit and when the older man is due back, he sets up a few appointments with university program councilors, stocks up the pantry with more than just the basic stuff he prefers, decides on a work out to do to keep in somewhat shape because there is no reason to get lazy. He is actually planning on making something for the older man when he gets a text message from the PA, at least he is assuming the new number that just appeared in his phone under 'A' belongs to the PA, otherwise he needs to be concerned. Apparently the plane has landed and Mycroft would like to meet him for dinner.

After a rather quick conversation about dress code, he gets in close to the same outfit he had on the night they met and head out to the curb where he discovers what appears to be the same car and driver his patron has sent both the times he has gotten a ride from him.

The vehicle ends up in front of a rather nice restaurant and he is not even sure they will let him in.

Getting out of the vehicle, his hands automatically smooth his clothing before he strides to the door with as much confidence as he can pull off. He brought his cane, but has so far avoided using it, instead just holding it by the middle like an umbrella or something else of that nature. Since they met two weeks ago, he has found he needs it less and less, though he is not sure what that is about.

Inside he pauses to see if he can spot Mycroft, and when he cannot see his patron, he glances at the hostess and comments, "Watson or Holmes?"

"Right this way," the young woman comments, turning to lead him quietly through the restaurant to a quieter room in the back, though there are still several tables.

"Mr. Holmes will be with you shortly," the hostess comments, "Would you like something to drink to start with?"

"Hot lemon tea please," he replies.

She nods and leaves with a smile.

Less than a minute later Mycroft seems to manifest out of nowhere as he slides into his seat.

"I apologize for being late," the older man comments, "I had a phone call I had to make."

He waves it off with a small smile, "I know you're busy. I was actually considering making dinner but wasn't sure what time you were going to be in and whether you were stopping by or not."

A light flush covers the older man's face, and he seems genuinely surprised by that comment.

"How was your week? Successful I hope?" he inquires, not asking what his patron was doing, he has a feeling he doesn't want to know.

"Successful," his patron responds with a small smile. "How was your week?"

He nods, "Good, busy, but good."

"That's good," the auburn haired man comments with nod.

Before either can say anything further, a waiter comes over to see if they are ready to order. After placing their order, they return to discussing their respective weeks. Well, more like he discussed his week and Mycroft discussed the weather of his. Once the food gets there, they fall a bit quieter, only occasionally mentioning something that they are enjoying.

All of that is broken when a young man comes striding over, mouth running a mile a minute and most of it difficult to understand.

He takes one glance at his face and knows immediately that he high as a kite.

The staff is trying to stop him, but failing miserably.

"Mr. Holmes, I'm so sorry," the host begins but doesn't have a chance to finish before Mycroft is waving him off and the younger man is glaring daggers at him.

"It's fine, a few moments of privacy if you please." His patron remarks, with a wave of his hand.

"Of course sir, again I am sorry for the interruption," the host replies before waving his staff away and leaving with them.

"Doctor Watson, this is my brother Sherlock," his patron introduces him.

He stands, offering a hand, "Nice to meet you," he greets the younger man, getting a read on him with a quick look. Addict, early to mid twenties, malnutrition, and possibly some form of mental health issues judging by the way he is speaking, though he cannot be sure because it could be the fact Sherlock is high.

The younger man takes hold of his hand after rolling his eyes and he narrows his, changing his grip, twisting and jerking the taller man forward and pressing him against the table nearest theirs.

"Not very polite interrupting dinner while high as a kite," he comments quietly but firmly, a bit of his captain's voice bleeding into his tone. "Now if you are going to calm down and be polite, I'll let you go and you can sit down like a civilized person. If you're not, I can throw you out, I am sure the staff will hold the door for me."

"Mycroft, call your toy off," the younger man snarls.

With a quick jerk, he biffs Sherlock against the table once, and waits for his response.

"I believe Doctor Watson has everything under control, there is no reason for me to interfere." His patron responds as he reaches for his tea and sits back down.

"Fine," the younger man nearly growls, "I'll speak with you later, when your pet isn't manhandling me."

He lets Sherlock go, standing and stepping back as he does so. Nearly as soon as he does the younger man straightens and glares at him. He simply arches an eyebrow questioningly. A moment later the taller man leaves them alone, glaring at everyone as he does so.

"I apologize for my brother's behavior," Mycroft comments when he sits back down.

He shrugs, "It's alright. I have a younger sister with less than pleasant habits."

The rest of their dinner goes rather smoothly, they even have dessert and make plans to have dinner on Sunday. Over all he feels that it has been a successful night, despite the fact his new patient seems to need some assistance, he will definitely need to get a hold of the medical records sooner than later so he can start coming up with a treatment plan because he is sure that one of these days the younger man is going to crash.

* * *

*waves at reader* hi folks, I hope you all enjoy another update, any reviews, comments, questions or other forms of communication are welcome.

My tumblr about stories, writing, and art JaimiStoryTeller

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos


	10. Chapter 10: Stir Fry and Dessery

John's POV  
Saturday he pulls out a few nice chicken breasts, and makes sure he has fresh fruit and vegetables to cook with. Sunday morning he does a quick sweep of the house, making sure that it's not a mess before heading into the kitchen where he starts working on the meal. They're having fresh chicken breasts, vegetable, and fruit stir fry cooked in coconut oil for dinner and raspberry cream pie for dessert.

Just a little bit before Mycroft is supposed to show up, he takes a quick shower after putting their dinner on simmer so not to burn it. One beautiful thing about his time in the military is he can be in and out of a shower in less than ten minutes.

Once he is clean and dressed in a decent pair of slacks and unwrinkled polo, he returns to the kitchen to finish the meal up. He is just pulling the pie out of the oven when he hears the door.

"Hullo Mycroft," he calls out warmly in greeting.

A moment later the taller man is entering the kitchen, "Good evening John."

Turning, he faces his patron with a smile, and suggests, "If you want to take a seat in the dining room. I will bring dinner out."

The older man's lips twitch in a slight smile as he nods and heads over to the other, smaller, attached room.

Humming softly, he makes a plate up for himself and Mycroft, then makes teas as well, all of it goes on a tray that is used to carry it over to the dining room.

"I hope you enjoy," he murmurs as he settles the plates on the table and the takes a seat with his in front of him.

"It smells good," his patron remarks as he lifts the fork and selecting a piece of chicken and pineapple to take a bite of. "Tastes good too," the older man continues a moment later, "Interesting combination of flavors."

He smiles, replying softly, "Thank you."

For the most part they eat in companionable silence, when they are done eating dinner, he takes the dishes and sets them in the kitchen sink.

"If you want to go sit in the living room, I'll bring dessert and drink out?" he suggests with a small smile, happy to see that Mycroft tucked in two plates worth of food. He is quite sure the older man needs to eat more often, and eat healthier, so he is going to try and make sure he does both.

For a moment those sharp eyes study him before Mycroft nods once and gets to his feet. "Shall I get a fire going?"

He smiles at the suggestion and nods, "That'd be great."

Once more his patron nods before exiting the room.

Taking a deep breath because he is not sure where he wants this evening to go, though he knows what his next steps are, he straightens and heads into the kitchen area to make their plates with still warm raspberry cream pie, small bowls of vanilla ice cream, and mugs full of steaming hot raspberry tea.

Putting it on the tray, he carries it to the living room where most of the lights are off except the one on the coffee table closest to the door. It makes the atmosphere warm and inviting, romantic even.

He is happy to see that Mycroft has settled onto the sofa rather than one of the chairs.

Setting the tray down in the middle of the sofa, he settles on the other end, commenting, "Raspberry cream pie, still warm, vanilla ice cream on the side since I wasn't sure if you liked it on top, and hot raspberry tea to complete dessert."

"It smells as good as dinner did," Mycroft comments, "What made you pick raspberry?"

Grinning as he grabs the spoon and picks one of the pieces of pie, he answers, "Well dinner had pineapple, cherries, strawberry, and apple pieces in it. So I didn't want to make pie with them. I didn't want blueberries because it just didn't seem quite right, so I went with raspberries."

Tilting his head, the older man studies him for a moment with a small mischievous smile on his lips, "Understandable." Lifting the second plate and one of the forks, the auburn-haired man carefully cuts a bite off and eats it. Low pleased noise escape the older man's lips as he swallows it, followed by the quiet praise, "Very good."

"Thanks," he happily replies.

The two of them eat in the same sort of quiet companionship as dinner, it's nice, different.

Like dinner, he quickly cleaned it up before making them fresh cups of tea, not that he expected Mycroft to drink it, just that he wanted to offer it in case he was thirsty.

Settling on the end of the sofa once more, he glances at the fireplace before asking, "Everything alright?" He's not sure why he asks that particular question but it seems like the right one to ask.

"Of course," his patron answers vaguely.

Cocking his head to the side, he studies the older man but doesn't push. There is something, his instincts as a doctor telling him that. He was always good at knowing which of his patients needed someone to talk about, probably because he learned early in life to read moods by subtle body language and expressions. There had been plenty of times it had been useful for him.

They spend more time in the companionable silence, something he is used to from fellow soldiers, and happy for because a part of him was worried it was going to be awkward.

"I worry about Sherlock," the older man eventually tells him, sighing as he finishes speaking.

He nods, considering what he had seen of Sherlock that's completely understandable.

When he notices the fire is burning lower, he gets up to stoke it before settling back on the sofa.

Mycroft gives him a very thoughtful expression, studying him with those sharp eyes as if looking for something in particular.

He just smiles in response.

When it is close to eleven pm, the older man glances at his pocket watch and stretches, "I need to be going."

Standing, he moves over to where the older man is standing now.

"Have a good night, Mycroft," he tells him softly, "Remember to actually rest."

One of the older man's eyebrows twitches upwards, the hints of a smile playing at the edge of his lips as he nods slightly.

"Yourself as well," his patron tells him.

The two of them quietly walk to the door, with the older man turning to face him when they reach it, and he is not sure what prompts him to lean in and up, pressing their lips gently together before he steps back and lays a hand on the door handle.

Mycroft seems shocked, standing there and blinking at him as he processes the fact he was just kissed.

"Goodnight Mycroft," he comments gently, opening the door and waiting for the taller man to leave.

Giving a small shake of his head, Mycroft nods at him sharply once before turning on his heel and leaving.

He watches with a small smirk playing at the edge of his lips. If just giving him a surprise kiss is going to cause that sort of reaction, he wonders what other reactions he will get out of the older man. Particularly if he uses those skills he developed as Three Continents Watson as his base nicknamed him. Well that's something to consider later, for now, best make sure any mess is cleaned up and head to bed.

* * *

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Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

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	11. Chapter 11: A Situation

Mycroft's POV  
When he left John's house he is shocked by the fact the younger man had kissed him farewell. His companion's body language had not said he was planning on kissing him. So why did he?

It is unlikely that John finds him attractive. He's well aware that he is either too thin or too fat. The suits do there best to make him look streamlined but he's well aware clothing can only do so much for him. His hairline is receding and the once vibrant auburn hair has lost it's healthy sheen. Several have even compared his features to an imp on several occasions even if he wasn't supposed to know that.

They are nearly to his small flat when his phone goes off.

"Yes?" he answers it, already knowing who's on the other side.

"Good evening sir. I hate to disturb you, however there has been a situation involving 0019 and the information he sold." His PA answers.

Closing his eyes, he asks, "Office?"

"Yes sir," she replies seriously.

"I will be there shortly." He informs her, hanging up and leaning forward to tap on the closed divider between front and back that Frank had closed once his phone started ringing. "The office."

"Yes sir," his driver answers.

His mind turns back to the situation he just left even though it should be turning to work. Why had John kissed him? It was unexpected, though not unwelcome. He definitely would not mind more kisses. Not that he has a lot of practice with kissing. Most find him very uninteresting, so kissing has never been something he has had a lot of. That's perfectly alright though, after all, attachments are not what anyone would call useful. Yet…his mind trails off for a moment before coming back to the fact he really wouldn't mind being attached to John.

As soon as the car comes to a stop he clears his mind and focuses on the situation at hand. A problem with 0019. His mind automatically catalogues myriad of various ways Nathan could have betrayed them. As soon as he does that, he starts planning for the contingencies. As the door swings open, he slides out and his eyes sweep the area without looking around in a practiced move. Frank closes the door just as his PA appears at his side.

"Amberlyn," she remarks as she glances at him, "Here are all the files for you." She passes a folder to him.

As the stride through the building to the office he reads them. Things are not as bad as they could be, though they are very frustrating. Apparently he will need to go to Japan to deal with this situation. Tonight or tomorrow morning at the latest. He will be gone for at least a week.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he quickly texts John, -Work emergency, I will contact you when I return.-

-Good luck.- JW

Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he enters the meeting room with Amberlyn close no his heels, taking a position to his left with her phone ready for note taking as the heads of MI6 and MI5 take their seats with their respective PAs.

"You already have a plan," M declares as she glances at him.

"Of course," he replies, expression bland.

"Will you be able to retrieve my agent?" she inquires.

"The odds are in his favor of surviving," he answers.

"We will move him to home service," the head of MI5 remarks, "Unless you have a better suggestion?"

He tilts his head and considers it for a moment, "008 is skilled with computers, firearms, and explosives. I would suggest putting him under the quartermaster for testing and design."

"We will take that under advisement," M comments with a slight tilt of her lips, amusement in her eyes.

"Is there anything else?" he asks even though he is certain there is nothing else.

"No," M answers, "I will make arrangements for 008 with Q."

"M, Mason," he nods to both of them as he stands and turns.

"I have already made arrangements for your trip." Amberlyn tells him seriously, "Frank will be here in forty-five minutes to drive us to the plane."

"Then I will use that time to work in my office," he decides with a small nod.

She nods and the two of them go their own ways, he knows his PA is collecting any items he needs for his trip.

Unfortunately as soon as he is alone his mind turns back to the fact John kissed him and he wants the younger man to kiss him again. Settling at his desk, he closes his eyes and sighs, now is not the time for him to get distracted with kissing. He has to go negotiate for the release of 008 with his Japanese counterpoint. It will probably cost the release of one of the agents they had caught last year. They still have three of them locked up in containment. After their capture they were detained but not questioned. No reason to question them when Amberlyn, Antonio, and Elex had wormed their way into their graces first and discovered what they knew before bringing them in. Of the three, only Elex's target had figured out something was off before getting caught. Currently they were staying in rather nice suits, even if they were completely underground and tech free.

Giving a small shake of his head, he returns his focus to the situation at hand. He'll think about kisses later.

* * *

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Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

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	12. Chapter 12: Night Out (Part I)

John's POV

It is just over two weeks before he hears from Mycroft again. When he does hear from him, it is to ask if he has Friday night free because there is an event that he will need a date and possibly a guard for via a series of text messages. Of course, he agrees, happy that he has already gotten some of the new clothes from the contract, particularly since he is sure he is going to need it.

Of course, Friday is three days away, and there is silence until just before he is expecting Mycroft.

He picks up his phone on the second ring, "Hello?"

"Good afternoon John," the smooth tones of his patron come across the line, "I hope this in not an inconvenient time. I thought we could discuss this evening."

Smiling even though the older man cannot see it, he replies, "Hello Mycroft, now's perfect, I wasn't doing anything important."

"Perfect, I do hate texting, however sometimes needs must." The older man comments seriously, "Tonight we will be having dinner with Mr. Terry Denton, his wife Alice, and his brother-in-law Mick Hale. After dinner we are to attend a meet and greet, it is there that your talents may be needed."

He bobs his head as he listens, "Alright, that's doable, anything special I need to know?"

"I do not believe so. Do not ask about the weather is my only advice, Alice can go on forever about weather patterns if allowed or encouraged." The older man tells him seriously. "It is not likely that there will be any guns, however knife threats are valid, as is certain poisons, though," there is something smug about his tone as he continues, "Very few poisons work on me due to Sherlock."

He takes that tidbit of information and files it away, sure that it will be needed at some point in the future.

"I will be there in fifteen minutes with the car," his patron tells him.

"Alright, I'll be ready," he replies, a moment later the line goes dead.

Smiling, he shakes his head, tucks the phone back in his pocket, and heads to the bathroom to make sure he looks like he is in order and to use it just in case. He debates about whether to take his cane or not, having recently found he does not need it as much, before deciding against it. Worse case is he spends tomorrow rubbing knots out of his leg. He is good at working through pain after all.

Just as he finishes in the bathroom he hears his phone chime. Pulling it out of his pocket as he heads to the front door, he is right when he thinks it is Mycroft telling him that he is there. Quietly, he steps out of the house, locking the door behind him before he moves down the walk way to the car. The driver is standing beside the door, opening for him, and closing it as he slides into place.

"The suit suits you," Mycroft remarks calmly as his eyes sweep over him.

He smiles as his eyes return the favor, enjoying the way the older man's suit makes his body look, "You too," he replies.

"Dinner will take roughly two hours, the meet and greet two to three hours," his patron tells him, "there will be drinks, dancing, and socializing at the meet and greet. Most the people there are politicians and bureaucrats or their significant other."

He listens closely, nodding once to acknowledge the information but not speaking beyond that. One thing he has always been good at knowing when to speak and when not to. This is a when not to moment. The ride to the place they are having dinner is peaceful. The silence is not tense, merely comfortable.

When the car comes to a stop, he waits for the driver to get the door even though it makes him frustrated because he can open his own door. However he gets the importance of appearance, and part of the appearance of power comes with someone getting the door. He is the first one out, with Mycroft close behind. With a smile, he offers his arm and escorts his patron to the door where a doorman opens it for them. They do not have to announce who they are before the host is showing them to a private dining room and seated with four other people.

"Good evening Mycroft, who's your companion?" the oldest looking one in the quartet inquires.

"Doctor Watson, this is Terry and Alice Denton, Mick Hale, and actress Ali Reid." Mycroft introduces him to the group at the table.

"Good evening Doctor Watson," the actress greets him with a warm smile.

He smiles at her in response, "Call me John," he replies.

"John," she repeats back, eyes widening slightly as she looks at him.

They take their seats and he thanks the host for putting the menus before them.

"What type of Doctor are you?" Terry just about demands when Alice and Ali both smile at him warmly.

Turning on the charm, he answers, "I was a field surgeon for the army, a captain in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."

"Was? Why aren't you anymore?" Alice asks, leaning forward slightly and tilting her head.

Right, so that's where the wind blows in that relationship. Good to know. Not that he is going to take her up on that offer.

"I was injured saving a soldier who was shot, both of us were sent home," he replies smoothly.

"Really?" both women query, voice full of interest.

Beside him Mycroft has a amused smile playing at the edge of his lips. While Mick and Terry both look a bit annoyed. He smiles winningly at the women and proceeds to answer every question they put forth, pausing in his answers only when the wait staff comes in to take their orders and then a while later to deliver them. Eventually, even the two men become interested in the conversation about his time in the army, and join in, while his patron merely smiles, his expression bordering on a smirk.

When the meal is done, Terry quickly bids Mycroft farewell, hesitantly bidding me goodbye right afterwards before ushering his party out of the room.

For several minutes he sits there with his patron, waiting to see what is happening next.

"That went far better than expected, thank you John," Mycroft eventually states, smiling at him.

He smiles back, nodding, "Good, that's good. Happy to help."

"Shall we go? I am certain the car is waiting for us now," his patron queries.

Nodding, he stands up, offering an arm to Mycroft as soon as the taller man is standing.

He hums softly as they move through the restaurant and out to the car, stopping his humming only long enough to bid the staff good evening.

The ride to the other event is just as quiet, though he notices that Mycroft sits just a little bit closer to him than he did during the first car ride. He just smiles and continues to hum. When they get to the next destination, he repeats the same actions as when they arrived at the restaurant.

Now comes the possibly dangerous and interesting part, guard duty while at a rather full social event. Here's to hoping he doesn't mess up.

* * *

*waves at reader* hi folks, I hope you all enjoy another update, any reviews, comments, questions or other forms of communication are welcome.

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Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

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	13. Chapter 13: Night Out (Part II)

John's POV

When they get to the meet and greet, he escorts Mycroft in, keeping his face a pleasant if neutral expression as his eyes sweep over all of the people here. Automatically he can identify the soldiers and bodyguards from the guests based on how they hold themselves and their stances.

He plays a charming companion to his patron, amusing the older man with the little medically related things he notices about people, asking questions, and actually listening to the answers. Many of his patron's acquaintances seem surprised by him, much to his amusement. It's not much different from having to deal with a military ball. Small talk, BS, act like he cares what the person he is talking to is saying even when he doesn't, and praise accomplishments when he knows or hears about them.

It is nearly time to go when the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his instincts scream that there is going to be an issue. Since he has always trusted his instincts, he leans close to Mycroft, commenting quietly, "There are at least two threats here."

His patron nods once, barely a twitch of his head and scans the room with those intelligent eyes, almost as if he is seeking the issue. A tiny frown plays at the edge of his lips as he murmurs, "I do not see one."

"It's here," he replies firmly.

"I do not doubt you, I just am not seeing it," the older man remarks calmly.

"How much longer will we be here?" he queries smiling at the man who brings them new drinks.

"Sirs," the waiter murmurs as he offers the tray.

Both of them take their drinks but neither lifts it to their lips. The waiter moves away but hovers just a bit from them, and watches.

"I wouldn't suggest drinking that," he comments as Mycroft lifts the cup.

"Of course," the older man responds with a glance around. "Ah."

Brushing a non-existent hair into place his patron motions to the waiter and nods. A moment later two security guards appear, taking hold of the waiter and leading them away.

They continue on their evening as if nothing else had changed, though another guard takes the tainted drinks while a new waiter brings them new ones. Neither of them drink them.

As the night draws to a close, that second threat he has been feeling for most of the evening finally shows itself as one of the guards near the front door pulling a taser out of his pocket and lunging towards them.

His body is moving before he even realizes it, hands going to intersect the forearm, the flat of his palm slamming in to the point just before the attacker's wrist. An audible cracking echoing through the air as his second hand slams into the back of the attackers arm just before the elbow. With a high pitched scream the attacker fingers spasm and a second strike allows the taser to be knocked from the attacker's hand. At the same time he strikes out with his foot, heel slamming down on the top of attacker's, pleased with the crunching noise that fills the air.

With reflexes born of a combat zone, he strikes a second time. The hand closest to the broken elbow latches on, squeezing and making the attack let off another strangled noise as his other hand shifts forward to strike the man's neck. The foot he had slammed into the top of the attackers, he shifts around to hook around the attacker's leg, slamming into the back side of his knee.

A moment later the attacker is down and two guards are there but neither moves close until he straightens and steps back.

"I almost think my men are not necessary." A middle aged man remarks as he comes striding towards them.

"Mr. Landey, Doctor Watson is quite capable, I am quite fortunate that he agreed to be my date tonight." Mycroft responds smoothly.

"So I see," the man identified as Mr. Landey remarks, "I will insure he is delivered somewhere useful."

"Perfect," his patron responds, "Insure my PA receives the information."

"I know your PA, she'd prefer to retrieve it herself, I will insure that is possible." the other man states before nodding in his direction, "Doctor Watson," and leaving.

"Shall we?" his patron queries with a smile.

"Yes," he agrees with a smile of his own and a nod. He's not sure what's next on the agenda but he is sure it will be interesting.

* * *

*waves at reader* hi folks, I hope you all enjoy another update, any reviews, comments, questions or other forms of communication are welcome.

My tumblr about stories, writing, and art JaimiStoryTeller

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

Hello my beautiful and awesome readers, three things for you. First: sorry this is a few weeks late, real life has been crazy. Second: these boys have been difficult to write, at least for this scene, and it may get tweaked in the future, but this is it for now. Third: I should hopefully be back on schedule.


	14. Chapter 14: Distractions

*waves* Hello folks, I know it's been a _long while_ since the last update. As part of this years NaNo I finished this story, it's a lot shorter than I originally thought it would be, but my muse fought every step of the way, so I will take what I got. Thank you so much for those of you who are still around!

* * *

Mycroft's POV

While he knew that John was quite impressive in his abilities, he did not expect to feel aroused by the situation. Originally he had planned to spend a bit more time with his companion but between the racing thoughts and the newest problem to be interrogated, he decides against that. That was a revelation, one he is still processing when the car stops in front of the house.

"Goodnight John," he murmurs, keeping his voice even despite his distractions.

John smiles at him,, kissing him lightly before exiting the car and heading inside without saying a word.

The divider between front and back slides open, his driver glancing at him in the mirror.

"The office," he tells Frank, answering the unspoken question and adjusting his tie.

He needs to take the time to think about this evening. Not that he has any. Instead he gets to deal with being distracted as he finds out what Amberlyn has already discovered on his potential kidnapper. As that is what the man with the tazer was planning, if he's not mistaken.

She meets him at the door, handing over a file as she says, "Anise."

"Thank you," he replies as he accepts it and adjusts her name in his mind.

He heads to his office, planning on reading through the file that Anise provided. He's partly through the folder on what information they already have when he gets an alert about his brother. Namely that his brother is on his way to the office, having bypassed security.

Sighing, he closes the folder just as his door is thrown open.

"Why do you have goons following me around?" His brother demands, not even bothering to greet him. Which is not all that surprising as the last few times he's seen Sherlock, the younger man has been high.

A quick glance at his brother's eyes confirms he still is.

"I do not have goons following you. If there are such figures, I suspect they are related to your unlawful activities." He retorts calmly, arching a brow at his brother in challenge. The closest he gets to goons following him is the cities CTV

Sherlock glowers at him, almost pouting actually.

Just what he needs, another bloody distraction. It's bad enough he keeps thinking about John and the fact he wouldn't mind the ex-soldier manhandling him however he wants. Looks forward to it even. Now he has this to worry about as well? He'll look into it.

Changing the topic, he comments, "I have hired Doctor Watson as a personal physician for both us. I am certain that he will wish to speak with you about your health and habits."

"I don't need a doctor!" Sherlock snaps angrily.

"Don't you?" He replies coolly, waving a hand towards his brother's disheveled appearance and general state of disreputable behavior.

Fort reasons he will never understand his brother seems to enjoy looking like a strung out bum without a place to shower. If his brother wasn't so good at avoiding security, he'd never make it in this building with the way he looks. He can clean up, and does occasionally when presented with a puzzle, but it never lasts, much to his frustration. He's still trying to figure out some long lasting way to encourage his brother to stop doing drugs.

Gray blue eyes narrow on him angrily as his brother goes still. He can practically see the fury in the way his brother trembles.

"It is not my choice that you engage in such foolish behavior. I'd have you sectioned if I thought it would help." He states, keeping his emotions off his face so his brother can't use them against him.

They've spent years having these clashes. It's not something he expects to end at any point, but he would like to see his brother living healthier. Not that he actually envisions occurring. Sherlock does what he wants and damn the consequences. He wishes their parents had acted like parents, rather leaving it up to him to deal with his younger brother because they didn't want to since he was so high strung.

So far John and Sherlock have only met each other once, and that was rather brief. He's certain that it would be prudent for them to meet again. The question is: will his brother behave to do so? Of course, the doctor had no issues with dealing with Sherlock, but that is not the point.

Perhaps John will have better luck coming up with a way to encourage his brother to stop doing drugs. It's a long shot, after all, he's only hired the doctor recently, and he hasn't had a chance to get to know his brother. Still, there's hope.

When his brother doesn't say anything for a while he sighs. "I do have things to do, I will look into the goons, as you called them." He remarks as he turns his attention back to the file.

His brother leaves in huff. Not saying anything else as he spins and strides away, slamming the door behind behind him.

Now that he's alone, he pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and simply taking some time to breathe. Sometimes he wishes he was an only child or didn't feel such a familial obligation. That would make everything so much simpler. Sadly, it will never be. Unless, of course, his brother accidently kills himself, at which point his parents will blame him.

Right then, back to the situation at hand. He can't afford to be too distracted. Not that that stops the thoughts and images teasing at the edge of his mind. It's going to be a very long evening, he decides. He'd rather think of John than Sherlock if he has to be distracted. At least with the blonde, they're positive thoughts. Things he is looking forward and is considering discussing.

Not right now, he scolds himself as his computer chimes at him, he's definitely got work to do.

* * *

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	15. Chapter 15: Sherlock

John's POV

It's not surprising that he doesn't hear from Mycroft for a few days. He wasn't expecting to after the events following dinner.

Between working on finding the right class program for him, he decides it might be a good idea to familiarize himself with the medical records for the Holmes brothers since part of what he was hired for is their medical needs. Mycroft's assistant can probably get him what he needs since his patron had said she could find anything asked for in the past.

So he sends a quick text off for her, not expecting any sort of answer or info until whatever business her boss and her have to deal with. He's a bit surprised when two men show up with a collection of boxes.

"Can I help you?" he asks them when he opens the door, eyes narrowing on them.

"Doctor Watson, we were told to deliver these to you," the taller one answers as he motions to the hand trolley with boxes on it.

Stepping back, he waves them in, trying to decide where he will keep them in the long term. Well, if they are staying here long term. For all he knows, he will only have a relatively short amount of time before they are collected up. Right then, he better make the most of it and familiarize himself with them sooner than later.

After they've dropped them beside the sofa in the front lounge as he directs them to, they leave and he decides he better make a large pot of tea considering the fact there are three boxes. A little bit later he settles on the sofa with the first box, a notepad, pen and tea.

"Time to work through these," he mutters as he opens it up and pulls out the top most files.

Hours seem to blend together as he goes through all of the information. There is one sealed file on Mycroft which is relatively short but includes the fact all his records are classified and can only be view in Medical at Vauxhall. The rest of the boxes are about Sherlock.

Apparently starting at a young age, the younger Holmes was prone to doing things that would be classified as unhealthy, unsafe, or both. There have been so many different trips to the doctors due to his tendency to experiment, as the file says, and the fact he spent a great deal of time being bullied. Though if these records are anything to go by, he got even with close to every bully who crossed his path in very creative manners.

By the time he's done with the first box, he almost dreads what he is going to find in the other two.

Actually, he should see if school records are included. Not a lot of doctors ever get a copy of those, but he found when he was in the army, that they could be a valuable source of information about how to motivate someone or understand their reasoning when they do shit. He'll request them after he gets through this mess, he decides.

He spends a little bit of time stretching before he starts into the second box. This one is purely about Sherlock, reflecting ages ten to fifteen. The bullying according to a lot of notes seems to have decreased, however that's only in regards to physical actions, not emotional or mental. So there is a fairly strong chance that those continued well into the younger brother's teenage years. Possibly still a problem, even if he doesn't admit it. 

The experiments got a lot more creative. There are several that could have easily have been deadly. Someone should possibly see about getting him a mental health check up. Actually, he writes that on his list of things to do more research and request available records for. He'll have to make an appointment to look into Mycroft's later. Even if they never leave the building, he needs to familiarize himself with them as well.

Box three is equal measures terrifying and useful. Some of the experiments used would be considered inhumane if performed on other people or living people. It makes him question whether Sherlock might be on the antisocial scale, not that he could make a judgement call without lots of discussion on the topic. Then there is the drug use and repeated emergency visits because of it. They've put him in a few programs, but he always manages to get out, either through manipulation or blackmail.

That's it, he'll go back to school to become a shrink. It'd work well with his existing medical degree and abilities as a surgeon. That goes onto another piece of paper, the one he has been using for his school of choice notes while trying to decide what he wants to do.

By the time he is done with all three, it's pitch black outside, and he needs to make something to eat for dinner.

Wanting to try things and experimenting can be a good hobby or occupation if performed safely. There's got to be a way to encourage him not to do drugs that would actually work.

He thinks about it all through picking and making dinner. He comes to the determination that he hopes Mycroft's records aren't nearly as full of things of that nature. He's got a feeling they will be more like the spooks and special forces blokes who occasionally ended up in his operation table instead. Maybe not as much active and field work, after all, his patron doesn't strike him as the sort to like field work.

He will go through Sherlock's records again the next day. Just so he can do so with a fresh set of eyes and see if there is anything that he might have missed. He will also request those school and any mental health records that might exist as well. Once he feels he has a handle on the younger brother, he'll start on the older brother.

As for tonight, he'll eat his dinner, do some exercises, and relax for a while.

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	16. Chapter 16: Curiosity

Sherlock's POV

Officially his brother has had a paid companion for a few weeks but to his knowledge the only time said companion has been anywhere near his brother is outside of the small house Mycroft set the man up in.

He's looked into the doctor as far as sneaking into places he's probably not supposed to be in order to look into his files. He's also used his budding network of informants on the streets to find out further information. So far everything seems to lead him to believe that Doctor John Watson is intelligent, for an idiot, but rather boring. So why did his brother pick him as a companion?

He needs to collect more information. Maybe go spy on him or something. Yes, that is a perfect idea. There has to be some discreet way that the doctor wouldn't notice for him to spy.

First though, he better get cleaned up since Mycroft put him in that quaint little neighborhood that is mostly clean cut and boring.

-oOo-

John's POV

He notices the dark haired man that passes his little house twice. On the third pass he realizes it's Sherlock, and he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and wondering exactly what he should do with this particular situation. He's already gotten his mail for the day, he doesn't need to go to the store, and there isn't any logical reason that the younger Holmes brother should be scooping out his place.

That is, unless it's from curiosity, which seems to be the driving force with most of the experiments.

Well, there is definitely one way to deal with that.

He goes and puts some water on to heat for tea. Then goes to his front door where he throws it open just as the dark haired man passes near the front door again, "Well come in."

He leaves it open as he walks away from it, slightly limping but not limping too much considering the fact it wasn't that long ago it was a hell of a lot worse.

He smirks at the wall when he hears soft footfalls behind him and the door click shut.

Alrighty then, that step worked. Now what Watson? He asks himself as he heads to the kitchen. Biscuits and tea, he decides as he stands in the middle of it for a moment, glancing around.

He's moderately certain that the younger man is looking through everything. He can still remember Mycroft saying he'd explain things in Sherlock's fashion, so that must mean he can do the look at a person and know about them as well.

Snickering, he makes up a tray and heads towards the lounge where he spends most of his time, not surprised in the least to see that the dark haired man is going through things there.

"A cuppa and biscuits for you," he comments as he sets them on the table.

"Why do you have my records?" There is something accusatory about the tone in which it is demanded.

He picks up his cup, answering as he settles on the sofa, "I was hired to be a private doctor for yourself and your brother since you tend to go through them fairly quickly from what I can tell."

Gray blue eyes that remind him of dark opals watch him suspiciously before Sherlock decides to accept the cup of tea and settle in one of the chairs.

He wonders if he should mention that is the chair Mycroft prefers when he visits, and decides against it.

-oOo-

Sherlock's POV

He looks boring but there is definitely something hiding there. Maybe his brother saw that and decided to keep him for that exact reason. Although, why he would want a paid companion doesn't really make sense considering his brother isn't a people person. Not unless he is using them for something or manipulating them into doing what he wants.

However that wasn't the feel he got on the one occasion he saw them together. So that is probably not it. Which is peculiar and just makes him even more curious.

"What makes you think you'll do any better?" He asks as he settles in the chair closest to the cold fireplace.

Seriously, the blonde answers, "I've survived war zones, even enjoyed them at times, I'm sure you will not be nearly as chaotic. Although you are fairly close according to those records."

He's telling the truth. That's startling. People lie. It's what they do. Just like being cruel and stupid. This doesn't make sense.

"Since we didn't get a proper introduction, I'm Doctor John Watson," the blonde states blandly, watching him with light eyes, "John."

"Sherlock Holmes," he replies with a sharp nod, eyeing the biscuits and grabbing one that looks rather tasty. His first bite into it makes him happy that he chose to eat it.

"Care to stay for dinner?" John queries, "It's a simple fry up."

He thinks about it, grabbing another biscuit and humming in pleasure as he bites into it. "Might as well. You're not as boring as I expected."

"Excellent, we can chat, and maybe you can explain why a genius would risk his mind on something so stupid as drugs?" The doctor asks as he snags a biscuit for himself.

This is definitely not going as he expected. Why does he always seem to miss something? No matter. He'll definitely enjoy getting to know John, maybe even steal him away from his brother, although, he's being paid to be a companion so is that really worth the effort to do so? Better yet, he can make John an asset of his, that could be rather useful.

-oOo-

John's POV

He watches the way Sherlock eyes him. He's quite certain that the dark haired man is plotting something. No matter, as long as he is here, he's not off doing something unhealthy and it will give him a chance to get to know him.

Besides, it will also give him a chance to learn what Sherlock thinks of his brother and him. Maybe they can even be friends eventually, that'd probably be good for both of them as neither of them have a lot of those.

If nothing else they can share in their curiosity of each other.

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	17. Chapter 17: Reflection & Reports

Mycroft's POV

His assistant is an exceedingly diligent woman, he thinks as his computer chimes and he glances at the message name. A report on his brother and John. Should he be concerned about that? A moment later he dismisses that thought, because one of the reasons he offered John all three positions is his certainty that the doctor can handle them, and his brother.

Not that there are a lot of people who can handle Sherlock. His younger brother is the definition of high strung and high maintenance. Of course, if asked, he is positive that his brother would deny that in as many ways possible. That's just the way he is.

So should he read it now or wait? He doesn't read the report just then, because he has a series of meetings he needs to deal with and all the paperwork that goes with them. Instead he turns his attention to his work, spending more hours than he plans to keep track of dealing with various situations as they arise. Particularly as there are certain agents who seem to miss the concept of covert.

It's early morning when he is finally done with work. Does he want to read those reports now or in the morning? Morning, he can read them before he starts on his actual work.

As long as no one blows something up, he should be out on time to have dinner with John. He'll call his companion after midday to make an appointment if it's going to work out. He'd like to spend some time with the doctor, get to know him a bit better.

So he heads home, having Frank drop him off at his flat, and nodding at the guards as he passes by. Ten minutes later, he's showered and falling into bed, with the alarm set to go off in roughly three hours, though he could go four before going to work. Actually, he changes the time, giving himself three and half hours instead.

A few hours later he wakes up before the alarm has a chance to go off, but he knows that he won't be able to get back to sleep.

Instead he spends the time between when he wakes and the alarm goes off thinking about that kiss. Why did his companion kiss him without prompting? It's not the first time John's done that. He's fairly certain that there is a pretty high chance it is going to happen again. Probably more than once.

Does he want it to keep happening? Does he enjoy the kisses? Would he like there to be more than just the kisses? The contract was originally worded in a way that implied he was the one who'd be topping, but does he really want that? Every time he has thought about it, he's been the bottom or John has topped from bottom.

Well his fantasies are rather revealing.

Yes to the first three questions, no to the fourth one.

He feels that his answers are rather revealing.

He's startled out of his thoughts by the alarm, so he sighs and turns it off to begin his day.

Not an hour later he is seated at his desk when his computer chimes, this time it's about the fact John has made an appointment to see the records that are classified, and the only reason he can see them them is his clearance from his time in the army and the contract between them. He considers hacking the system and looking in on John, but decides that might be a bad idea since Q considers medical under his watch security wise. There is also the nagging suspicion that he wouldn't be able to get in that he doesn't want to test.

After he takes care of some paperwork marked as urgent, he reads the report Anise has assembled on John's requests for all of the medical, mental health, and school records for Sherlock, and a copy or access to all of his records. He also discovers that his brother paid a visit to the doctor, staying for most of the day after being invited inside.

He really wants to know what they discussed but he's fairly certain that John wouldn't say, as a doctor patient confidentiality unless there was a danger to his brother. That's definitely something he can appreciate but it's also annoying as he doesn't like being without information.

Just past one pm, he confirms that he'll be getting out at a decent time, so he decides to call and see if dinner would work for tonight.

"Hullo Mycroft," the doctor answers the phone on the second ring, "How are you?"

It still surprises him that John seems to actually care about how he is, so he answers as truthfully as his current tasks will allow. "Good afternoon John, I'm bored but well, yourself? "

"I'm good, just going through paperwork." Comes the younger man's easy response.

"I was calling to see if you would like to join me for dinner at seven?" He requests, almost absently adding, "I'd send a car."

"Sure," John agrees, "That sounds good."

"Excellent," he hums, "until then."

"Ta Mycroft," his companion replies before the line goes dead.

Chuckling, he tucks his phone aside and hopes that no one does something to interfere with his dinner plans.

Now then, he has more reports to get through. Mostly the boring sort that run everything but make him want to shoot someone for how dully fluffed out they are written. How hard is it to write direct and to the point? He appreciates the rare people who do so. They streamline the paperwork, now if the rest of the idiots and goldfish would just pick up the habit, everything would be so much better.

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	18. Chapter 18: Dinner & Dancing

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas folks

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Mycroft's POV

Picking John up and going to dinner seems to pass far faster than expected. He had finished his paperwork early, so instead of using two different cars for them, he just rode in the vehicle while it was on the way to pick up his companion. '

The smile that the younger man had directed at him as the blonde slipped into the car made his heart skip a beat, much to his embarrassment.

They had sat in companionable silence on their way to the restaurant, but that had ended after they ordered their drinks. At that point, John had asked how his day was going. Not what he was doing, just the impressions and emotional reacts of it.

He had answered truthfully, even if he wasn't exactly sure why.

From there, their meal and chatter had been about little things. They discussed the fact the doctor had visited with his brother. John was as tight lipped on that conversation as expected. Then they had discussed the fact that his companion finally settled on a major, now he just needed to figure out which school he wanted to major at. Then the discussion had turned to books and that's where it stayed until they were done.

Again, rather than call for a second car he had decided to ride with John back to the house, which is how he ended up in his current situation.

"Come in with me, Mycroft," John suggests, running his thumb lightly over the back of his hand. "I don't have anything nefarious planned."

He's certain their definitions of nefarious might differ," he thinks as he watches in fascination the way their hands are touching. People don't just touch him.

"If you insist," he agrees, noticing the fact his voice is rougher than he is used to.

John's lopsided grin has the hints of a smirk to it as his eyes crinkle in warmth. "Yeah, I do."

"I'll call you when I am ready to leave," he tells his driver as he motions for his companion to get out of the car.

He follows John out of the car, mildly surprised that the younger man didn't head in first and instead waited for him. They walk up to the small house side by side in silence.

Once inside, John gets them drinks from the kitchen, hot teas, though non-caffeinated, with a gentle joke of, "No reason to wire our systems so late in the evening."

He nods as he accepts the cup being handed to him and settles on the chair closest to the fireplace as he normally does. His companion settes on the sofa, almost sprawling as he drinks his tea.

For a time they enjoy the silence together. When John's done with his cuppa, he sets it down on the coffee table, rising from the sofa to start a low fire, turn down the lights, and turn down some music.

"Dance with me," the smaller man murmurs as he offers a hand.

Why would the blonde want to dance? He wonders as he sets his cup on the small side table, considering it. Is there any good reason not to? None that he can think of off the top of his head.

Accepting the hand, he stands up, wondering if this is a good idea, but pushing those thoughts aside to enjoy the way they fit together as John steps closer. Slowly they dance around the mostly empty living room.

He is surprised to say he's enjoying this, despite the fact he's not actually a fan of dancing.

"I wanted to dance while we were at that ball, but work comes first," John tells him, the hints of a smile ghosting over his lips. "Then there was that arse who ruined my evening plans."

"You were planning something similar that evening?" He asks, wondering why the blonde has been considering this for several days apparently.

"Yes," his companion hums, "I was planning something similar that evening."

He doesn't get this entire companion situation, he thinks, he's not currently interested in sex, or so much physical contact, and yet, it seems that John is. At least on the physical contact aspects of it. So far there has been nothing really sex related.

Except those kisses you've enjoyed, however brief they've been, a little voice that reminds him of his brother sneers in the back of his mind.

They continue through several songs before his companion queries, "Thirsty?"

He nods, stepping back as he replies, "I am, excuse me for a minute."

"A'course, I'll make more tea," John agrees with a warm smile, slowly letting go of the hand he was still holding, thumb caressing across the back of it as he does so, sending a bolt of sensation through him.

Nodding once, he pivots and heads to the downstairs bathroom.

Why is John doing this? He asks himself as he washes his hands and face, glancing in the mirror and spotting exactly how flushed his skin is. He doesn't blush so why is his skin more of a peach color than normal?

Normally he would know with just a look. The way he's used to reading people. Yet he has a bit of blind spot when it comes to his companion. He can see things, but they don't always make sense to him. Actually, when it comes to himself, the things he sees with John never really make sense to him. There is no way that he can be considered attractive. His weight fluctuates too much, he's overly pale and not in the 'romantic' manner, he's snotty and arrogant, and he has a receding hairline.

And yet John seems to.

He really should return to the front room before his companion wonders what's taking him so long, he thinks as he washes his face again.

John might not have the ability to read people in the same fashion as him or his brother, that doesn't mean he can't do so using a different skill set. That's a fact that has been repeatedly made clear when they have been around other people and the way the blonde reacts to each person.

Drying his hands and face, he squares his shoulders and leaves the bathroom. Returning to his seat by the recently rebuilt fire.

Instead of another cup of tea, John presents him with a wine glass. A sniff of him declares its spiced wine.

Almost hesitantly, because he's not a fan of wine in truth, he sips at it and discovers that the wine flavoring is more of an after taste.

"Relax, I'm not planning on jumping your bones tonight," the doctor remarks as he sets his mug down. "However you were getting progressively tenser, which is not what I as after either."

"Of course," he agrees, forcing his body to relax, which is surprisingly harder than expected.

Upon finishing his glass of wine, he decides to be the one to ask for the dance, because why not? What's the use of having a companion who's willing to dance with him if he doesn't take the initiative occasionally.

The smile he gets when he offers his hand, makes the entire nervousness and exasperation with himself worth it.

Tonight's going better than expected. He'll stick with that when he starts having doubts in the morning about John's reasoning.

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	19. Chapter 19: Setting the Pattern

John's POV

The next few months seem to fall into a bit of a pattern. He's rather busy between classes and the Holmes brothers.

Classes are regularly scheduled and those schedules don't always work with his job or jobs, depending on how one looks at it. A lot of the base classes he was able to skip right by because of his bachelor's degree in medicine. He also finds that he knows a lot of the information already from his time in Afghanistan and the pre-reading he did on the topics he's chosen for his new field.

That also helps with the classwork and various assignments he's given. Since it means he doesn't actually have to do a lot of reading or research on the topics. Instead, he just has to formulate understandable and clear papers with references and sources cited. He had checked with most of his professors to see if he could use experience, and the majority of them were fine with that as long as he could also find backup references from other sources such as the books or online.

There are a few occasions where he sees Sherlock because the younger man does something stupid and Mycroft insists on it. There are even more times the dark haired genius just stops by because he is lonely and wants someone to speak with. Not that that would ever be admitted.

It's rather amusing, some of the conversations they have while Sherlock tells him about things and he works on his assignments.

He's moderately certain that the younger man thinks he's insane for going back to uni. Maybe he is, but he enjoys it, and that's the part that counts. At least to him it is.

Mycroft comes by for dinner two times a week, and takes him out to dinner once a week, work allowing. Then there are the evenings he ends up with his patron because of a work event, where he is needed as a date or a guard, sometimes acting as one to do the other.

Those events always call for him to wear one of the many suits that have appeared in his closet alongside of the other clothing he went out and purchased. He's not actually sure why he needs so many suits. He could just have them dry cleaned and reuse them. However he doesn't argue it, just goes with the flow.

He enjoys the thrill of adrenaline he gets when there is someone whose head he gets to bash in.

On nights they eat at the house, he slowly figures out what things are favorites and what are not. Then combines them into different dishes using a cookbook and the massive kitchen he has at his disposal.

It's nice, having a pattern that his life is in. Stabling.

They discuss plenty a wide variety of topics. Everything from what he is working on for classes to food to the current world of politics and intrigue. The first few times it strayed into politics, Mycroft was a bit startled by the fact he's rather well informed, at least that's what his behavior said. Those conversations often end up going long into the night, before he shooed the auburn haired man off to get some rest.

As the weeks move on, there has been more kissing. A lot more kissing. Sometimes just simple brush of lips. Sometimes teasing deeper kisses that causes Mycroft to blush rather interesting shades of carmine, including his ears which turn the darkest shades

There is also a lot more cuddling, often times before a low burning fire.

Occasionally he gives massages to the older man. Though those are the rarest sort of contact between them. Still, he enjoys putting those elective classes he took years before to good use. According to the way Mycroft melts beneath his fingertips and often drifts off to sleep, he enjoys them to.

Sometimes he wonders if he should push things further, but he's already decided that it's best if he lets his patron set their boundaries. It's in the best interest for all parties involved.

He actually enjoys being a companion, but not really a sexual one. It's a different type of experience for him, not one he can really remember doing before since most his relationships have had sex in them from the beginning, and there are those relationships that were all about the sex.

He's actually in the middle of musing about his relationship, and how it's not quite like any previous relationship he's had when Mycroft chimes him to invite him to dinner.

Since he doesn't have any other plans, he answers in agreement, and puts away the work he wasn't actually doing since he was a bit distracted. He then glances at the time and goes to get cleaned up when he realizes that there is less time than he expected.

While he doesn't tend to wear suits for any other purpose than when they have a work function to deal with, he does like to dress nicely, since how he looks reflects on his date, and in this case patron.

He's just getting out of the shower when he hears the downstairs door close.

Right, so apparently he's a bit behind.

Not a problem, he can deal with that. Drying and dressing in military time, means he is ready to go almost before Mycroft reaches his bedroom door.

He's in the process of slipping his shoes on when he hears, "Almost ready?"

"Yeah, just gotta finish with my shoes," he replies with a grin at the door.

There are definitely times being ex-military with the ability to dress quick that comes with is a very handy thing.

Running his fingers through his hair to fluff it a bit, he stands up and opens the door, grinning when he spots the public servant sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Hello," he greets the taller man, crossing the space to step between slightly spread legs.

"Good evening, John," Mycroft replies, the hints of a smile curling the corners of his lips.

He presses a quick kiss to them, before stepping back and offering a hand up.

Rising from the bed, the taller man motions towards the door. He nod in agreement, walking out the door and towards the staircase where he waits for the auburn haired man.

The leave the house side by side, heading to the car, where Mycroft tells Frank where to go for dinner.

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	20. Chapter 20: Amending the Agreement

Mycroft's POV

He decides that he will discuss the amendment he wishes to make to their agreement with John over dinner. He considers doing it while they are at the house one evening but decides it will probably be better to have that discussion somewhere semi public, if only for his peace of mind because he might be tempted to ask for the change to take place then and there, and not like it if his companion wishes to think about it or says no.

So he asks the doctor to dinner and then arrives a few minutes early because apparently he is a glutton for punishment.

When John walks out of the bathroom, having just showered and dressed for dinner, he finds heat pooling low in his stomach because the simple black slacks and polo shirt plus blue jacket looks damned good on him.

Right then. Even more reason to do this somewhere public-ish.

The soft kiss in greeting sends a different type of warmth through him.

The ride to the restaurant is pleasant in companionable silence, though nerves he would deny having make him jittery and it's only through through force of will it doesn't show outwardly.

Upon getting there, John escorts him in, same as he has plenty of other times and he has a flash of panic, considering for just the briefest moment to cancel this evening or come up with something work related to cancel it with.

You're a coward, the voice that often sounds like his brother taunts him, afraid to be honest with your goldfish?

He ignores it, and instead does the escorting to his usual table that he had reserved earlier in the day.

The waiter is with them immediately, asking what they would like to drink and he answers for both of them, as he has done plenty of times before.

"Is something wrong?" John queries once they are alone.

"No, there is nothing wrong," he answers, being truthful, because he's fairly certain that it's not wrong yet. "I wished to speak to you about our agreement, and make a minor amendment if you are open to it."

Arching a dark blonde brow at him in question, his companion doesn't ask aloud, letting him read the question in his expression.

"After we've ordered," he comments, not wanting to have it interrupted once he begins, as that would be rather embarrassing.

Nodding, the doctor doesn't push, instead the younger man looks inside the menu, querying, "What goes with the wine you ordered?"

Smiling, he lists off the items according to memory.

Barely a minute later their waiter returns with their bottle of wine and glasses. He pours it for both of them before asking what they would like for dinner and is careful about taking notes on their selections, making sure they know what their options are with each meal.

Once he's gone, he turns his attention to John, taking a deep breath to steady himself before stating, "I would like to amend our agreement to include myself as the one being penetrated. It has recently come to my attention that I might enjoy it."

The blonde doesn't blink as he processes that request. "That's doable."

It takes him a minute to catch up, he wasn't actually expecting an answer so quickly. Mostly because he hadn't actually finished with his reasoning. For some reason, he was expecting it to take a bit more to convince him, so for it to be so simple is startling.

Does that mean that John's thought about it in the past? He studies his companion for a bit, deciding that is an accurate assessment. The question then becomes how much has he thought about it? In what context even?

All of the research has shown Three Continents Watson to be versatile, but wasn't sure how much of that versatility would apply to this situation.

"You should give yourself some time to think about it more now that you've asked," John suggests with an affectionate smile. "After all, saying things aloud can sometimes change how that is perceived. Whether intentional or not doesn't really matter."

He nods, because he knows that is a definite fact. He's seen it happen plenty of times in meetings and when speaking with most people. He doesn't think it actually applies to him in this situation but he still appreciates the fact that his companion wants him to be certain beyond a shadow of a doubt.

The time spent until their dinner gets there is in silence. He's considering the fact John agreed so readily and whether he would still like to go through with that plan. He's also considering how to approach the topic of role play. Both for himself and for his companion. At this point, he's moderately certain it's another conversation they are definitely going to discuss before anything actually happens.

After all, he's not a fan of changes in his personal life without going as many details possible beforehand. Not that it always works. His brother has been the cause for most of the changes in his life that he wasn't expecting, both good and bad. Which according to most people he has listened to discuss their younger or older siblings, seems to be a moderately normal effect of said sibling.

Once dinner is on the table, they revert back into their normal dinner time conversation. Which is to say, they bounce between a wide variety of topics, most of which are not personal in any way, shape, or form. It's a pleasant evening, leaving him with an answer and more to consider.

They skip dessert as neither of them have room after finishing their meal.

The ride back to the house is just as quiet as the ride to the restaurant.

When they get there, John cups his face gently, kissing him long and slow before bidding him, "Goodnight, Mycroft, sweet dreams."

He's sure that he's blushing as his skin feels abnormally warm and pulled taut. "Goodnight John," he replies, voice lower than normal.

Oh yes, he has plenty of things to think about!

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	21. Chapter 21: Planning

John's POV

He can say with all honesty that Mycroft's request to bottom was a bit shocking and not all in one lovely bundle of information. He's known a lot of people who are used to being in control in their day to day life, the one thing they all have in common? Occasionally they like to unwind and not be the one in complete control. To be cared for. It's not shocking that his patron would feel the same.

Right then, he should probably get a collection of supplies for that situation. Right now he has things that he prefers, since he can bottom as easily as top, as long as he knows the preference of his partner. He doesn't have any issues being a switch, it's one of the reasons he's done so well in the past.

What all should he get? All the proper lubes types of course. The body oils for massages in several different flavors. A few types of laxative, for reasons. That'll work for now. Depending on how things go, he can acquire anything else he might need in the future.

Okay, so now that that is done, what else does he need to plan?

Actually that's pretty much it. The rest of it is in Mycroft's hands as to the when it will happen. Hopefully whatever date the auburn haired man selects comes with a day off following, or at least not a lot of time at a desk since first rounds, even when properly stretched and prepared for can cause sitting to smart.

He can do that in the morning when he runs to the store. Maybe it'd be a good idea to get those sort of supplies from a higher quality provider since he can see Mycroft being picky or more selective. Right then, google to find some places that would sell those products so he can go purchase them.

He snickers as he wonders if it's considered a household item or an expense item.

-oOo-

Mycroft's POV

For the next week he avoids John. Or so it feels like despite the fact he doesn't actually have any control over his schedule because things keep happening. Most of which are totally outside of his control. Why couldn't this have happened before he asked his companion to amend the deal between them?

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and bites back a groan of frustration.

What if John changes his mind before he actually gets a chance to try? It's possible. Particularly if his could be lover thinks that he's changed his mind.

He's not normally one to swear, but he's currently feeling like that would be an excellent way to deal with this mess.

Right then. When this current mess is cleaned up, he's taking forty-eight hours for himself. Of course Amelia will still be able to reach him as needed. Otherwise he will spend the weekend with John. Actually, he'll see if the doctor would like to go to his vacation home for the weekend. That would be the perfect time for him to experiencing bottoming and maybe discuss some other things that he's been curious about.

First he has to deal with this. With renewed focus, he turns his attention back to the situation at hand. This has dragged on long enough. Now to get the fools on the same page so they can move things along. If he can deal with Sherlock for all of these years, there is no excuse for not being able to handle them. After all, none of them come even close to the creative dangers that his brother presents.

-oOo-

John's POV

Eleven days after their last dinner, he gets a call from Mycroft requesting that he accompany the older man for a weekend away from the city. He agrees without even thinking about it, because why not? It's sure to be a pleasant weekend. If he has his way it'll be more than pleasant.

With that in mind, he packs a small bag, and includes the various supplies that he had decided would work best. That way, when ever happens, they have the supplies on hand. If Mycroft brings his own, that's fine too. Better to have too much than not enough. Particularly for safety reasons.

The car is due to pick him up at six pm for dinner, and he should bring his bag with because they will be leaving for the weekend after dinner. He's good with that too.

Glancing at his phone to check the time, he decides it would definitely be a good idea to go get cleaned up now. That way, as his patron is arriving, he'll be already to go.

-oOo-

Mycroft's POV

He's feeling uncharacteristically nervous as he climbs in the car to go pick John up. He had considered driving himself, but decided against it because he's too preoccupied to safely drive.

When the car reaches the house, he spends a few moments re-orientating himself. As he opens the door, planning on going to see if John's ready, the house door opens, and the blonde exits with a small black bag. It's the one he bought for travel purposes since the duffle that the ex-soldier used previously is in questionable condition.

"In the boot?" the younger man queries as he walks up.

"Yes," he agrees, tapping on the window to Frank and motioning to the back of the car.

A soft click is the only answer he gets.

John drops his bag in the back, closes the boot of the car and climbs in with him.

"Hi," the blonde murmurs in greeting.

"Good afternoon," he replies seriously. "I made us reservations, following dinner it will take an hour or so to reach our destination."

Nodding, John hums, "That sounds good to me."

Now he just needs to make it through dinner and the trip to the vacation home. That should be easy enough. He's done harder things for work more times than he can count, so why does this make him nervous in a way those life threatening situations never did?

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	22. Chapter 22: Morning

John's POV

By the time they get to the vacation house, he can practically see the exhaustion and nerves warring within Mycroft, so instead of trying something, he suggests that they go to bed. He gets the impression that was not the expected result of the evening, but there is no way he's going to sleep with someone who seems to be equally excited and dreading it.

Instead, he kisses the older man gently then asks which room is supposed to be his for the time being.

He could work through the nerves and exhaustion, he's done it before with partners, but those were partners that seemed a bit more sure of what they want or partners he's been with before.

So they go to bed in different rooms.

He's not surprised when he's the first one up in the morning. He normally is an early riser. A habit developed due to years in the military. After a quick shower in the en suite, he heads downstairs to go through the kitchen, finding all the things needed for a fry up.

By the time Mycroft enters thirty minutes later, he's almost got breakfast done, there is hot tea, and he set out some of the laxatives for if his patron wishes to take that route or not.

"Good morning," he murmurs, turning to glances at the auburn haired man with a warm smile.

"Good morning John," his patron replies, eyeing all the food skeptically.

"If you'd like to take a seat, I've almost got everything done," he suggests, motioning to the small table by the window.

Nodding, Mycroft makes himself a cuppa before settling on the seat furthest from and facing him.

It's quiet as he divides out the food between two plates, one for each of them before carrying them over to the table. He then fetches his mug, settling in the seat corner wise, rather than across.

Rather than take the first bite for himself, he selects a piece of sausage since he's seen Mycroft eat those in the past, and offers it to his patron with an easy smile, curious to see if the older man will go with the flow or not.

Taking the morsel to chew, the older man selects a bite and almost hesitantly offers it to him.

Still smiling, he takes it, humming happily that his idea seems to be working.

They spend several minutes taking their time feeding each other. Occasionally he will touch the older man's hand or arm, light little caresses. Affectionate gestures.

By the time they are done eating, it seems that Mycroft has finally relaxed. He's not nearly as tense as he was the previous evening, or even when they first sat down to eat.

"Thank you for the delicious breakfast," his patron tells him quietly, watching him with a thoughtful expression.

"You're welcome." He replies as he nods once. "Thank you for inviting me and having such a well stocked kitchen for me to work with."

Mycroft's expression shifts to something a bit warmer, affectionate even.

A moment later it fades to something serious, "I noticed the items you left on the counter," the older man motions the small pile of laxatives.

He nods, "I didn't know if you had supplies, but wanted to let you know if you didn't there were options."

Neither of them speak for a while, instead they sit there drinking tea.

"I had bought supplies based on items mentioned in the original contract," Mycroft comments, light skin turning pink.

"Fore planned can be a good thing," he comments with an almost playful smile, "those weren't the only supplies brought with."

Blinking at him, he's moderately certain that the older man turns an even darker shade of pink based on how his freckles stand out.

Several more minutes are spent with them sitting there, he even gets up to get them new cups of tea.

"There's no pressure," he tells his patron as he grabs their plates and puts them in sink. For some reason he's on the nervous side. Though he couldn't say why.

"Are you certain you are amenable to either sort of relationship?" Mycroft asks him softly.

He nods once, sharply, "Yeah. I'm not uncomfortable with having sex with a bloke on either side of it."

That almost seems to confuse his patron, which considering the older man's ability to read most people's motives and reasoning in a look, he can understand that. Though truthfully, he doesn't know what the problem is, so that is probably interfering with it too.

He's better with actions than words, so he walks over to where Mycroft is sitting, cups the older man's face between his hands and kissing him long and softly. Teasing little licks and lightly nibbling on his lip. Their tongues touching and curling, slowly building up heat.

"Oh," the auburn haired man murmurs against his lips when they finally stop kissing.

"Yeah," he agrees, nuzzling the curve of his soon to be lover's jaw.

"I believe I will take juice, rather than tea," Mycroft comments, turning his head so their lips meet once more.

Grinning into the kissing, he replies, "Juice can be good."

Neither of them move however, instead they just keep kissing. Slow and explorative kisses that are more about learning what the other enjoys than anything else.

He doesn't know long they stay like that. What he does know is when they finally stop, Mycroft's eyes are almost shut and so dark he can barely see the color, his lips parted as if trying to catch his breath. That blush seems to have mostly faded. Instead the older man's peach skin is covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

It's not the first time he's got the feeling that his patron tends to avoid physical contact. It is the first time he's wonder if Mycroft has ever went to bed with someone just to have sex with them. Or if the older man has ever dated, since a lot of the actions between them could be considered date like.

Either way, he's going to make sure that it's a pleasant event for both of them.

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	23. Chapter 23: Slowly

John's POV

The rest of the morning is spent between cuddling, making out, and talking about whatever memory comes to mind. It's a gentle sort of morning, the kind he once wished to have with James before everything in their respective lives went to hell.

By the time lunch comes around, he's pretty sure where things are going, because neither of them eats a lot, but both of them keep randomly touching the other.

He's just set the dishes in the sink, thinking they will need to wash the dishes before dinner. When he goes to turn around, Mycroft is there.

Smooth fingers caress his face and neck as the taller man leans in and kisses him. Passion quickly building between them.

When they break apart to breath, his patron requests, "Take me to bed John."

"Yes," he agrees, kissing Mycroft again.

This time when they break apart he takes the older man by the hand and leads him upstairs to the bedrooms. However, he doesn't select which one, deciding to let his soon to be lover pick.

The auburn haired man opens his door, and leads him into the room.

Glancing around, he doesn't really pay attention to things past the basics of where the doors, windows, and furniture is placed at.

"There are the necessary items in the top drawer of the left bed stand," Mycroft tells him, skin turning pink once more.

"Great," he answer maneuvering them so his lover's back is to the bed and he guides them towards it, stopping just shy as he kisses his patron again. Fingers going to buttons of the older man's pajama top.

Mycroft's hands go to the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it up and off him, breaking the kissing only long enough to do so. Once it hits the floor, smooth fingers start mapping his skin and they go back to kissing until he's got the last button undone, at which point he pushes the shirt down off pale shoulders.

Several minutes are spent standing there with both of them touching each other, learning about each other's bodies. Once they lay down he'll take his time kissing, touching, caressing, and nibbling on all that creamy freckle covered skin.

Biting his lip, the auburn haired man's hands run along the edge of his pajama bottoms before thumbs hook on them and slowly start to push them down, though there is a small hesitation before he nods encouragingly.

His own hands go to Mycroft's bottoms.

The two of them pushing each other's bottoms down. Leaving them in nothing more than their pants. As they step out of them, he encourages Mycroft to lay on the bed.

Nodding, the older man does so, stretching out on the top of the bedding, watching him with wide blue gray eyes.

He climbs on the bed next to the taller man, bracing himself on his knuckles to lean close and kiss Mycroft once more. Slowly he trails kisses across his face and along the curve of his jaw before continuing down his throat.

He takes his time touching, caressing and massaging, finding the different spots of sensitivity and paying attention to the reactions he gets. He follows his hands with his lips and tongue. Tracing along freckles and marks, teasing.

His tongue flicks over Mycroft's nipple, getting a startled gasp as he takes his time. When it's hard and pebbled, he breathes on it before repeating the process on the other side.

Slowly he makes his way downwards, following a very thin trail of light auburn hair.

When he makes his way to the soft curls surrounding the older man's cock, he glances up, meeting glazed eyes to make sure that Mycroft is still alright with the way things are going.

Seeing the anticipation in those glazed eyes, he scoots further down the bed so he can curl his tongue around the tip of his lover's cock, his hand comes up to pull the foreskin back so he can continue to tease him.

He takes his time working his way further down Mycroft's cock until he's slowly bobbing his head up and down. He takes his time teasing, having no plans to actually push him over the edge just yet. They have plenty of time for that later.

By the time his lover's hips start rocking, he starts making his way further down. Sucking on first one ball, and then the other, very careful not to bite down since he knows that hurts like a bitch.

Lifting Mycroft's legs to rest on his shoulders, he licks his way around the tight pucker.

Every single lick and lap draws out a litany of noises from the normally reserved man. He delights in each, continuing his teasing until he's sure that his lover is at the edge.

Making his way back up Mycroft's body, he kiss and nips until he is kissing him on the mouth again.

"That drawer?" he queries against his lover's lips, motioning to the table.

"Yes," the auburn haired man groans, arching against him.

"Perfect," he hums, before kissing Mycroft again, long and slow until he is almost completely out of breath.

Leaning over, he grabs the lube and condom for this round, before returning to his spot between his lover's legs slowly, as he kisses, licks and nibbles another downwards trail, this time following the freckles.

"John," Mycroft keens, almost his entire body rocking in need.

"I've got you," he murmurs, running his fingers over smooth skin until he's calm again.

Wetting his fingers with the lube, he sets to work opening the older man up, taking his time teasing and touching. By the time he's worked that first finger in, Mycroft is back to being a needy wreck.

The second finger quickly follows, and his lover is demanding more before he's certain the third will be safe. He makes it all the way to four fingers before he is sure that Mycroft is ready. Then he puts on the condom and lubes himself up so he can line himself up.

Slowly he presses forward, taking his time to bottom out.

"John," Mycroft gasps, pressing into him.

They develop a pattern that gradually picks up speed until he's thrusting hard.

He reaches between their bodies to take hold of Mycroft's cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts until his lover comes between them. The clenching of his body sends him over the edge, and a few more thrusts and he's coming too.

Afterwards, while his lover drowses, he fetches a warm flannel and cleans them up, trashing the condom, and covering them up with the blankets to nap.

* * *

I still love comments and reviews, can be found on tumblr at JaimiStoryTeller or at twitter jaimist0

There is only one more chapter left on this. Thanks for reading everyone!


	24. Epilogue: Epiphany

Mycroft's POV

The rest of the vacation goes smoothly, he enjoys the sex, and they have fun changing it up. By the time they leave for London, he knows a great deal more about the younger man's body. Surprisingly, he learns about his own body too.

Once they are back in London, life returns to normal. Or as normal as it ever is. He works a lot, often traveling for his job. There are plenty of situations he ends up taking his companion with him as a guard, and several he takes John with him as a date.

When he's not out of the city, he often finds himself spending a lot of time at the home he gave John. He enjoys the quiet moments where they share. He often works on paperwork while the blonde works on his assignments for the university.

Even his brother comes around and isn't as high as he used to be. It's actually after hearing about when he came across a cop and his crime scene that he comes up with a deal for Sherlock. Not that he admits it. Instead he makes an appointment with Lestrade, the cop that didn't arrest his brother for being high at a crime scene and gives a few suggestions regarding his brother that in turn become a good distraction for him.

John gets drawn into helping Sherlock with cases, but still comes home to him at night. He's still the one that gets to call the ex-soldier his.

It is after one of those cases that he has an epiphany. He's been practically living with John for the last six months. He thinks of the younger man not as a companion, but as a person he cares for deeply, maybe even loves. John's his home.

It floors him. Leaving him breathless as he considers the implications of that.

Who would have guessed that going to a club to catch a traitor would cause so many changes in his life? Definitely not him. Had someone told him that last year, he would have had them sectioned for being delusional. Now though, he wouldn't trade it for the world.

* * *

I still love comments and reviews, can be found on tumblr at JaimiStoryTeller or at twitter jaimist0

There is only one more chapter left on this. Thanks for reading everyone!

That's it folks! Thank you so much for reading and all the support as I worked on this.


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